S is for Shovel and K is for Knight
by Lkcsi
Summary: (on hiatus) Witness the Order of No Quarter's alphabetically arranged adventures! Well, not everything is about the Order, because sometimes our beloved adventurers may pop in from time to time. Sometimes lighthearted, most of the time dark and dramatic. [Made post-Plague of Shadows and pre-Specter of Torment, and content warnings are inside]
1. A is for apparition

**CONTENT WARNINGS** : blood and gore, character death, emotional and child abuse, bullying, mental trauma, familial quarrels, summary executions, torture, stalking, body horror, substance abuse

 _Original author's note: Okay, I'm actually writing up a whole SK universe, but I decided to take a few breaks from writing that and spend my time writing crack stuff. That cover photo is proudly drawn by my right hand and enhanced with my left. This is just for my sick entertainment, but I'm pretty damn happy of this. Shovel Knight is owned by Yacht Club Games._

 _Updates might be erratic because of unstable internet connection, etc. Around 10 words per letter! Oh, and expect the Order of No Quarter to appear more!_

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for alchemy.**_

Plague Knight scratched his head through his hood. ' _How am I going to shake Reize Seatlan off of me,'_ he thought to himself while the young adventurer fell to his knees and pulled his black robe. Just nearby, Mona watched the two in contained amusement.

"I'm paying you anything just to brew me a love potion!" The young adventurer begged at the feet of the little alchemist.

"We last fought three years ago, and you still haven't wooed your girl, kid?"

" _Yes!"_ Reize answered and tugged at Plague Knight's robe, bawling. "Please help me. I'm losing her to someone else!"

"Not a potion, kid." Plague Knight replied, recalling his painful journey with the Ultimate Potion. He wasn't going to let the kid go through what he had gone through. "But… hee, we are quite similar, aren't we?"

Reize sniffed. "Why? How?"

"Let's have a lesson, shall we? You see, hee… Mona and I…" He shyly inched closer to the taller woman, who was internally laughing her head off, and then held her hand. "I tried using alchemy to try and woo her… the potion ended up badly, but she already loved me… so…"

The adventurer stood up and made a look of realization. "Oooooohhh… so that's what you're saying! Maybe she already likes me?" Reize said, and then his eyes shone with determination. He stood up straight with a grin. "She likes me!"

"Wait wait wait, kid, you're missing the point!"

"Alas, Plague Knight! Your advice has reawakened my hope!" Reize thanked before leaping away.

"Wait, kid! I still have…," he lifted his hand helplessly towards the jumping kid, "whatever."

"You didn't even tell him it all boils down to having the proper chemistry, Plaguey." Mona chuckled. "Or better yet, alchemy."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for archaeology.**_

"Guys, we just discovered a new part of the Lost City!" Mole Knight happily clapped his hands. His minions cheered for him happily. "It's going to be so much fun!"

"Sire, the excavators are ready!" A mole minion reported proudly.

"More anthropologists are on the way." A second said. "Arrival time should be before dusk today."

"How many anthropologists are we expecting?" Mole Knight asked.

The second minion shuffled among his papers and fixed his helmet for better sight. "Two professionals and around forty students, some for field work, others for observation."

"Are you sure? I thought a small class is coming." Mole Knight wondered aloud, but shrugged. "Tell the field workers they're going to have a blast with the Lost City!"

"Demolitions team ready." A third added right on cue. "However, Plague Knight has declined from assisting. He says, 'I have science to do and excavation isn't my kind of thing'."

"Too bad." Mole Knight remarked gloomily. "The rocks are pretty hard to dig through, and he's the perfect one to blast through the sediment."

"Spelunkers packing their bags."

"Linguistics department reading things!"

Mole Knight could barely contain his excitement. "Let's dig!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for airship.**_

"Ah, _mon ami_ , isn't the Flying Machine lovely today?" Propeller Knight fondly looked up at his luxurious airship. "Ah, her paint is shimmering today."

"I thought I'm here for upgrades, not paint jobs." Tinker Knight flatly stated, rolling his eyes at his comrade.

" _Oui_ , little tinker! I just want to pause and relish in a moment of admiring my airship." The Frenchman sighed lovingly.

"Go ahead and marry it if you want."

"Oh, yes, if I just could."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for airborne.**_

"GET DOWN HERE, YOU!" Shovel Knight barked from the deck, shovel raised and Throwing Anchor at the ready. His health was almost depleted, as well as Propeller Knight's health. His usual politeness was gradually being eroded away by the Spin Controller's attacks. Shovel Knight looked so exasperated and grumpy from the ground. Propeller Knight could help that.

Propeller Knight only smirked and summoned his airship from his place in the air. The ship launched large cannonballs, which destroyed part of his deck.

"Going down, _petite_!" He insulted for a moment as he descended to the deck, landed on the side opposite of Shovel Knight, and pointed his heli-blades at his direction. His helmet sucked in the air and caught the blue burrower in the wind.

He didn't get to watch how the blue burrower fell into the pit. He only got to hear several curses directed towards him once the little shoveler fell off the deck. That was _totally_ not his intention.

"Oops."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for arm.**_

"Oh no." Treasure Knight mumbled to himself in the dinner table. "I can't move my right arm."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for assistant.**_

Specter Knight floated aimlessly in his domain, utter boredom filling him, rivaling the boredom Mona exhibited. If there was a contest of boredom, he could actually win. It was a frequent problem for the immortal. There was literally nothing to do. There were no soldiers trying to retake the village he had annexed, no adventurers daring to fight him, no foreign ghosts entering his lair and asking for permission to visit like they needed a passport to enter, and nothing to play with.

He could call for Mona in the nearby village but she was with Plague Knight, who wasn't anywhere within reach. Besides, the apparition didn't like busting up glassware. He desperately wanted someone to talk to if nothing was going to happen. He almost swore he would talk to a Tadvolt that time if no one was going to show up.

"You're hovering aimlessly." A foreigner ghost commented loudly, saving the reaper from desperation.

"You have _excellent_ observation skills." He looked down towards the ghost in immense relief. Insanity wasn't going to come to him for a while longer. He recognized her light dress, which faded away down to her feet. Her lower legs were nowhere to be found. "You still have not left?"

"I was hoping for a job opportunity!" She twiddled her fingers shyly. "I've been dead for quite a long time and I still don't have something to do."

"I do not have anything to do as well, and I have been dead for a long time."

"Can I be your servant? I can entertain. I can fight, too, if you need someone to fight better than the skeletons. They're frankly mindless and brittle. You'd like some additional protection, right?"

He tilted his head in thought. A ghost, an actual ghost, was asking him for work? _Well, my undead army isn't mindful of real-time tactics and strategy, and can only blindly attacking living things_. _I always get defeated with them at my side despite my cunning._ He nodded to her. He could use some help.

"Very well. I am placing you under my direct orders. You cannot move independently. You are only to act at my will."

"Really?" She brightened up. "Thank you!"

He didn't know he was going to have multiple headaches, if pain and stress still applied to him, after employing the foreign ghost as his personal assistant.

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for accidents.**_

King Knight strutted in the hallways while alone. He felt great to train himself in the regal art of flouncing. It was his routine; to perfect his kingly strut to absolute perfection before dinnertime. He happily and royally walked his magnificent walk while walking to the dinner hall.

He reached the stairs and decided to practice the stairs version of his prance.

He stepped on a malevolent banana on the middle of the flight of stairs.

He let out an un-kingly scream.

/moments later/

"Tell me," Polar Knight glared at all the knights lying on top of each other, "what happened here?"

"Ah, ah, Polar Knight," Propeller Knight squealed from under Mole Knight, Tinker Knight, and Treasure Knight, "help us first, _s'il vous plait_."

"I made _salad_ anyway, Polar Knight." Plague Knight rolled his eyes, struggling against the combined weight of Mole Knight and Propeller Knight.

"Sorry guys, I just can't stand up." Mole Knight apologized.

"I genuinely apologize, Polar Knight…" King Knight trembled, fearing the Norse warrior's wrath, "there was a banana in the staircase."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for acid.**_

"What's that?" Treasure Knight inquired upon paying attention to the small man.

"Thrrs rss mrriatrrc rrcsid." Tinker Knight's muffled voice answered. Treasure Knight inwardly cursed his helmet for preventing sound from properly reaching his ears.

"What is that for?"

Tinker Knight rolled his eyes under the welding mask. He dangled the bottle of acid in front of the gold pillager. "It's for cleaning your copper, brass, and iron to make them a lot shinier, goldbrain."

It took Treasure Knight to figure out what the muffled sentence meant. "I'm taking it."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for apple.**_

Plague Knight quietly sat on the dinner table wielding a knife in his left hand.

"Are you… the true Plague Knight…?" Propeller Knight asked, reaching into his pocket for his dagger, completely unnerved by the alchemist's unusual behavior. Plague Knight's bird face only turned to him and reached into his pouch.

Propeller Knight almost flew back frightfully.

Plague Knight held out a harmless apple gleefully.

Mole Knight looked on in curiosity.

King Knight suddenly gasped dramatically.

Treasure Knight crushed his own apple accidentally.

Polar Knight watched warily.

Tinker Knight fell off his chair painfully.

Specter Knight sighed disapprovingly.

Plague Knight threw the apple up in a parabolic trajectory.

Most of the other knights followed the apple attentively.

The apple fell back towards the ground and so Plague Knight slashed at it quickly and expertly.

The apple slices fell on the plate, perfect in shape and size, and the little alchemist went to mince and crush a slice to mush with the kitchen knife.

"Hee, I thought I couldn't do that anymore."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for apparition.**_

The toymaker was busy welding some metal together, just as Specter Knight expected him to. He held a damaged metal boot, sighing sadly at the sight of his right boot's mangled state, which sustained a horrifying small dent somewhere on the upper half.

"Tinker Knight." The visitor called out.

The engineer's concentration was broken, but not in the way the phantom had originally intended. The tiny man yelped in surprise and fell off his stool backwards. Specter Knight shook his head at the tiny tinker's pitiful accident-prone life.

"Oh, Specter Knight! I thought you were a ghost! I was scared for a moment there!" Tinker Knight laughed, picking himself back up to his feet and brushed the dust on his overalls away.

"...I _am_ a ghost."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for appearance.**_

" _Specter Knight, honestly, the cloak is too tattered! You will never achieve fabulousness with that!" King Knight said._

"Servant." The reaper spoke. The ghost maid immediately appeared at his side, wearing a smile too bright for her ghastly nature. Her dress had also changed to match his colors.

"At your disposal! What's your first order, master Specter?"

"Do I appear too threatening?" Specter Knight asked, studying his new assistant closely for behavior.

"Honestly, you look like a balanced form of threatening and…," the maid shook a little in his gaze, "more threatening."

"I am cool anyway, right?"

The assistant raised a brow at the unconventional vocabulary. "Yes."

"Your first order is to make me look cool."

 _ **.**_

 _ **A is for a lost group of anthropologists.**_

"Sir, I'm genuinely concerned about our whereabouts." A young anthropology student noted. "We've been following different stars and walking in circles."

"Ssh, I'm finding out where we are." The older anthropologist shushed, holding up his broken compass and sextant.

"We're en route to the Lost City, correct?" The student asked, her brow rising higher and higher as she observed the professional. "We're all tired. How far are we from our destination? It's been two nights since our deadline. I'm not even sure if Mole Knight is still expecting us."

"I don't believe we're lost!" He cackled madly. "It's the Lost City! It's lost!"

"May the gods of the holy boat save us from the terrors of the wilderness."

 _ **Up next: B is for banana.**_


	2. B is for Bard

_Author's note: Expect a LOT more dinners, people._

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for bubbles.**_

"So… when is the Enchantress coming?" Treasure Knight asked. "I believe my submarine is under attack as I speak."

"Just be patient." Specter Knight snapped.

"Patience is virtue, waiting is treasure." Tinker Knight poetically added.

"Shovel Knight is currently invading my submarine!" Treasure Knight protested. "When I come back and I see just one copper piece missing-"

"I have bubbles." Plague Knight murmured, summoning a vat of soapy liquid from his alchemical pocket dimension. There was a large ring with a handle submerged in the liquid.

The members of the Order of No Quarter turned to Plague Knight's vat beside the table.

"Knock yourselves out, hee." The little alchemist shrugged. "I have to fetch something from the lab while we wait."

With a cloud of green smoke, he disappeared from his seat, teleporting outside of the dining hall. Propeller Knight stood up almost immediately after and inspected the vat.

"What was he expecting us to do, _mes amis_?"

"Why, to blow bubbles while we wait for her!" King Knight answered enthusiastically, leaping out of his chair.

"Are you sure we are permitted?" Tinker Knight asked.

"We're the Order of No Quarter, peon!" King Knight retorted. "The Enchantress does not care what happens to the dining room at all!"

/*a few minutes later*/

Polar Knight sighed. He was sitting on the dining table, right hand holding the ring and the left cupped on his face in utter boredom and annoyance. He could have been eating the delicious cake Plague Knight prepared. If there was something that wizard was useful for, it was for cooking delectable food. Propeller Knight was sitting under the ring, unhappy as well, his Heli-Helmet's blades spinning slowly. His fan hat blew several bubbles up and away. The bubble on the ring eventually popped. Tinker Knight took the ring from his gigantic teammate and promptly dunked it on the half-full vat. He returned it to Polar Knight, who harrumphed and sighed again. The trio watched the rest of the Order having a little fun, especially Specter Knight, who seemed lost in memories… again.

"I wonder how that peasant bounces on bubbles." King Knight wondered aloud.

"He uses that shovel and aims it downwards." Mole Knight replied. "Perhaps you could use your scepter?"

A small _pshhk_ accompanied a cloud of smoke as the alchemist teleported back in the dining hall, carrying a big book. Plague Knight only had to get a glimpse.

"The room is full of bubbles!" The alchemist blurted out in surprise, clutching his large book close to him.

"Very good observation." Tinker Knight grumbled from beside Polar Knight. He mocked a clap. "Wow."

Suddenly, the doors of the dining hall banged open, eerie wind blowing from their direction. All torches lighting the hall were extinguished, allowing only natural light to illuminate it. The bubbles were promptly blown away and popped once they got in contact with the opposite wall. An unamused sorceress was hovering by the doorway, a moving body bag just behind her.

"Does someone want to explain why my dining hall is filled with _bubbles_?!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for Bard.**_

The Bard showed no hints of fright once he was dumped on the dinner table from the sack he was just in. All he did was take his trusty lute, check if it was still tuned properly, stand up, and dust lint, soap, and food particles off of his garments. The Order of No Quarter and the Enchantress watched in awe at this fearless person look around as if he was just walking leisurely. There was just... an odd thing about the Village Bard. It was either his peculiar lute or his legendary status that struck the wrong chords in them.

"So," the yellow minstrel raised his arms, "what am I doing here?"

"You are to compose music for us, musician." The Enchantress replied with a booming voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I already know that, girl, it's my _divine_ duty to make music for y'all." The Bard sighed in exasperation. "Can I go home now? My dog's waiting for me."

"Of course, why not?" The sorceress nodded and gestured to the exit courteously.

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for butt.**_

King Knight suddenly cackled.

"Have you gone mad?" Mole Knight stopped his obsessive finger tapping and leaned away from the laughing knight.

"No… haha, not at all!" King Knight answered, and burst in more laughter. "Oh, remember the butt days?"

Polar Knight banged his mug of beer on the table.

"How immature." Specter Knight grumbled.

"Why didn't we have a 'best name award'?" King Knight shouted as he banged his fist on the table, barely containing his fit of laughter. "Butt Butt! That peasant!"

"Hey. You're ruining the rich dinner." Treasure Knight huffed. "I haven't experienced a quiet and peaceful dinner with all of you. Now-"

"Ruin?" King Knight chortled. "Treasure Butt! Hah!"

"What the f- hey!" Treasure Knight lifted his diving helmet for audibility's sake.

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for baka.**_

From the perspective of a young red Liquid Samurai, everything around it worked in odd ways.

It observed the Tower where it was born in, and it seemed too tall, ugly, and outlandish, but it resided in it. It didn't really know why and how it considered the ugly tower its home.

It observed the blue horned person defend against its comrades with nothing but a glorified shovel. It wondered why someone fought with a digging apparatus and somehow won against the deadly sharp katana and lethally precise yumi. How a shovel to outmatch true weapons of war escaped it.

It remembered the blue horned person from memories of its predecessors. The blue horned person was fighting with a red winged person, who fought with shields. Shields were weapons of war, right?

It followed a being it couldn't truly comprehend, but loyalty trumped all. It observed the peculiar eight warriors that also followed the being but were outside of the ranks of the samurai. They were all very, very, very odd. It watched the crowned person, whom it despised because of the person's lack of combat skill. It steered away from the dead person, but noted the person's obsession with appearance. It respected the big person, but wondered why the person used a big shovel. It was dumbfounded of the gold and blue person, who never spoke coherently. It was intrigued by the bird person, who didn't fly around in the air, unfortunately. It was impressed by the small person, whose creations, it admitted to itself, surpassed the best katanas. It was curious of the red person with claws. It was uncomfortable thinking about the green person who flew in air because of the person's sword. The cutting power of its katana would break that thin weak sword in two, but wondered how that kind of sword would earn him a title among the other warriors.

It was currently watching the blue horned person and the eight servants of its master wrestle and curse on the dinner table, grimacing as warriors fell off one by one. They were relentlessly punching and slashing at each other. It mouthed one word that would describe every single one of them.

" _Baka."_

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for bad news.**_

Mole Knight was fidgeting in worry. "It's been two days. Where are the students?"

"We do have reason to believe that the entire incoming anthropology department is missing." The mole minion in the room unhappily stated. "This week has been bad news for us."

"The demolitions team currently in intensive medical care, the anthropologists missing? Yes, I agree." The excavator grumbled to himself, his mind desperately cranking up solutions to his problems. "I need new demolitions personnel first."

/later that day/

Mole Knight shrieked in horror. "PLAGUE KNIGHT? In the name of archaeology, WHAT DID YOU DO?"

A little alchemist stood before the smoldering ruins of the ancient house that was once there, nervously laughing. "Boom? Hee hee."

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for barter.**_

King Knight slipped a bag of coins to Treasure Knight under the table.

Treasure Knight quietly handed him a new scepter after wriggling his arm out of his stubborn armor.

King Knight gleefully caressed his new scepter while Treasure Knight carefully counted the coins in the bag.

"No unauthorized transactions on the dinner table." Polar Knight scolded.

The two knights groaned, but gave back each other's product.

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for beach.**_

The red Liquid Samurai laughed for the first time, throwing sand at its fellow liquid warriors, only for a furious green archer to shoot sand at it.

"Ahh, this is lovely." King Knight could only comment, resting against the tinker hammock, legs on a regal stool. Propeller Knight placed his own propeller hammock beside his fabulous friend and jumped on it. He handed a pair of shades to his comrade, who accepted it.

" _Oui_. _"_ The Frenchman only sighed in happiness, sipping on a glass of wine and putting on his own glasses.

Meanwhile, at the water, Tinker Knight lugged one of his new inventions, which looked like a wakeboard with several things attached to it, to the water. Unfortunately, his upper body weight wasn't cooperating, and so he stumbled face down on the sand multiple times. Polar Knight, who was holding a small red and gold umbrella, approached his small teammate and helped the tinker bring the board to the water. Lifeguard Treasure Knight stood watch over the small knight struggling to stand up on the wakeboard. The red liquid samurai ran away, followed by a grumbling green liquid archer, followed by an entire horde of completely frantic blue shifters.

"Now, if you just stop panicking, you'll be able to ride the waves properly." Polar Knight instructed in a considerate father-like tone.

"I don't know if I can do what I want!" Tinker Knight whined.

"You sound like the children I once taught." The Stalwart sighed. "Alright, keep your knees unshaking."

Tinker Knight nodded and swam away from the shore. He held up his thumb. Polar Knight turned around and chucked his umbrella upwards, which was almost instantly engulfed in a yellow glow. The umbrella slowly floated to Specter Knight, who stayed in the shade far back.

"Oh dear, what's he doing now?" Propeller Knight lifted his shades up. Just as he was about to sit up, something burrowed from under his hammock and carried him upwards.

"The shakers are ready!" Mole Knight shouted, before plopping the Propeller Knight-carrying-propeller hammock back down on the sand.

The apparition floated towards the sea, the umbrella replacing his weapon in his left hand. He looked down and waved to Tinker Knight. The water became covered in the ghostly yellow of Specter Knight's spectral influence.

"Alright, time to hit it…" Mole Knight murmured as a mole popped out of the hole, a device with a single button on it. He picked it up, patted his pet's head, and pushed the button.

A low rumble came from underwater. The beach shook, and then the water suddenly receded from the shore. The yellow began to go up, with Specter Knight raising his arm to follow the water's rise. Propeller Knight gasped, realizing what was about to happen, and then placed on his elaborate helmet, fastening the metal and fabric straps to his torso as fast as he could. He took one of the handles and squeezed it, flying out into the air as high as he could. King Knight watched the French noble fly up, confusion filling his mind. The three samurai, now at least a mile away, started running towards any high point they could find.

The snow knight put his hands at either side of his mouth and shouted encouragingly. "Remember! No shaking!"

Tinker Knight, filled with determination, swam to the large wave and dared to stand up once he started to ride in it. The yellow color of the water disturbed him a little, but he didn't let that faze him.

He was going to prove he can surf a wave.

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for break.**_

"You're back?" Mona let a bit of surprise slip past her constantly bored façade. The blue knight had broken the wall she had placed to protect Plaguey from being spotted. He had done this more than ten times, and she was already worrying that Shovel Knight might drop by as Plague Knight literally drops by, effectively exposing her laboratory and destroying her mask of a bored woman just interested in giving a good game to less bored knights.

"Yes, kind miss. I am back for another round."

"Okay… great. I'll conjure more things… again." She pulled a small lever and the targets appeared. "Ready?"

Mona conjured a green flask, and Shovel Knight immediately jumped to hit it with his weapon. The flask shattered in contact with one of the orange targets. She almost swore she was going to descend to complete madness if she was going to hear more flasks break in the next week.

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for bright.**_

"Specter Knight, turn on the damn lights." Polar Knight grumpily said to an equally grumpy Specter Knight. The apparition had angrily turned off the lights when something King Knight said severely offended him, and Polar Knight was not tolerating any kind of quarrel while he was having a great time eating his chicken.

"Hss." Specter Knight grumbled and snapped his fingers. Light came back in the dining hall, but everyone else promptly screamed and squeezed their eyes shut.

" _Mes dieux_!" Propeller Knight dramatically screeched, stretching his arms out before putting his hands over where his eyes were. " _Mes yeux_!"

Plague Knight silently put his tiny hands over his mask's eyeholes, muttering insults towards the apparition. Mole Knight huffed and put his claws over his visor. King Knight complained loudly while shielding his regal eyes from the unholy light. Treasure Knight had quite a hard time. His anchor arm wasn't helping, and he couldn't move his free arm much, so he smacked his helmet on the table to cover his eyes while he wiggled his left arm free. Tinker Knight and Polar Knight were the only ones who weren't affected, the latter by his welding mask, and the former by the shadows obscuring the upper half of his face. Polar Knight sighed exasperatedly at his younger comrades, putting his large palm over his face.

"You sadistic maniac!" King Knight shouted loudly, his left arm over his face and right feeling around blindly on his part of the table. "Where is my plate?!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **B is for banana.**_

Specter Knight gasped in horror for the first time in his second life.

"Do you like what I made you, master?" The new assistant asked just as Specter Knight gasped in horror for the first time in his second life. She forced herself to smile when she saw his hands glow yellow and heard him count softly from one to twenty. He straightened his composure after a long moment and stared down at his top servant.

"Not at all." He replied as calmly as he could while glaring the sharpest of daggers at her. Specter Knight pointed at his outfit, near identical to his normal red hood, scarf, and robes, only that the color was a golden yellow.

"You… look good, master Specter."

" _I look like a banana!_ " He uncharacteristically yelled. " _A banana!"_

"You… look good as a banana, master." She twiddled her fingers in pure terror of his bubbling rage. "I honestly think you look cool."

"I told you to make me look _cool,_ not _like a fruit._ " He looked at the mirror briefly, his dread increasing by the second when he realized two things; his whitish armor underneath the yellow made him look more like a banana, and his thin arms and hands looked like the thin strings on the peelings. He was a floating ripe and harmless banana wielding a sinister scythe. He started to simmer in hotter rage, which the ghost maid immediately noticed.

"Bananas… when placed in a cool, or preferably, a freezing place, become… sweeter. Perhaps y-you'd be less temperamental, possibly more sympathetic, if you'd stay for some time in the… Stranded Ship?"

"What? Are you insinuating that you-?"

"Banana Knight?" She suggested. "An odd moniker, yes, but it's less ridiculous than the name 'Shovel Knight'. I will acknowledge Banana Knight as my master-"

"I order you," He descended to her, fists shaking and glowing, his figure gliding threateningly closer to her, "to stop it."

"… who is also Specter Knight… who seems to hate bananas with a burning passion…" She looked up at his face, felt his glare of death on her, and flinched. "Forgive me, master! I promise! I will never do it again!"

 _ **Up next: C is for cat.**_

Translation/s:

 _baka_ \- idiot (Japanese)

 _mes dieux! mes yeux! -_ my gods! my eyes!


	3. C is for consultation

_Author's note: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!_

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for cat.**_

A small black cat purred from beside King Knight, who yelped in complete surprise. The cat's emerald eyes looked up at King Knight and hit him with an evil love beam of cuteness. King Knight awwwed, picked up the cat, and placed it on the table.

" _Un petit chat!_ Come here, _minou._ " Propeller Knight grinned fondly, coaxing the cat to come to him. The cat meowed in answer and started walking towards his direction.

"We can adopt the cat." Tinker Knight murmured. "After all, where's the harm?"

"The Enchantress might be allergic to cats." Plague Knight said, watching their cat guest look around the table and scratch its ears. "Remember the bubbles?"

Tinker Knight shrugged. "Well, that cat had to come from somewhere."

" _Minou!"_ The Frenchman gestured, his arms up and ready to embrace the cat.

"Meooww." The cat walked past Propeller Knight, ignoring him.

"Kitten, where are you going?" He dramatically asked, his voice feigning sadness.

"Since when did you become a cat whisperer?" Plague Knight asked, rolling his eyes. Propeller Knight ignored the bird-faced alchemist behind him and followed the cat's motion.

The black cat went to Specter Knight, who only stared at it. It jumped onto the apparition's 'lap' and then purred softly.

"Go away." The ghost harshly commanded. "Shoo."

"Meeeoooooooww." The cat seemingly replied its protest and proceeded to defy the cruel knight's statement. It curled into a small ball on his lap and purred softly.

"Propeller Knight wants you on his lap." The reaper softly spoke.

Propeller Knight whistled again. " _Minou!_ "

"Meow." The black cat snappily answered, becoming a tighter ball of fur.

"Shoo. Go away." He telekinetically lifted the cat off of him and placed it in Propeller Knight's waiting arms. The cat jumped back on Specter Knight's lap. He put it gently back on the Frenchman. The Spin Controller hugged the little black cat tenderly.

"I think it likes you, spooky ghost." Plague Knight injected as Propeller Knight fought the cat's efforts to return to the chilly lap of the phantom.

"Cats have nine lives, right?" King Knight suddenly inquired, standing up for emphasis.

"I suppose." "Mona and I have talked about it, and we're currently researching about it." " _Oui_!" "Right." "It's probably untrue." "Yes." "Is this another English proverb? I don't understand."

"I think the cat is only approaching its kind!"

The entire table stared at the monarch for a long, unblinking moment.

"OHHH!" Tinker Knight laughed loudly after another long minute of pondering. "It's because he's living his second life now!"

"Srr, frrllrrwrrng yrrr lrgic," Treasure Knight lifted his helmet for a moment, a confused look on his face, "Specter Knight is a cat?"

"Exactly!" King Knight cackled. The rest instantly followed in his lead. Polar Knight's torturous laughter was drowned by the collective chortling of the Order at the idea of putting cat ears on their resident apparition's hood.

Specter Knight was not amused.

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for calm.**_

The ghost maid pushed the fallen shelf back up. She grimaced after her master's telekinesis flung the same shelf across the room.

"First the banana, and now the cat. I promise I will kill you all, and kill you again and again and again and relish in the pleasure of your pain…"

"Now, now, master, please calm down." She gently told the apparition as she followed the shelf.

"How do you think I can calm down, servant?" Specter Knight hissed at his right-hand person.

"You've never been this angry since… that time. Look, master, the entire Yard is devoid of any form of life, living or undead, because of terror from your rage."

"Are you not terrified now?"

She twiddled her fingers. "Well, yes, and sad too. I-I had a couple of ghost friends and they fled just a while ago. I do want them back, and only if you calm down a bit."

"A cat chose to rest on my lap, and what do they do? They call me a cat, laugh at me, and try to put feline ears on my head, _and you believe I can calm down?"_

"We've been through this at least ten times, my Lord. You're hot-headed but at least you don't stay angry."

"Oh, I will stay angry for the rest of my life, dear servant. Mark my words! There will be no more parties here until they give up their lives and souls to me."

"I want the parties back!" She childishly protested, tugging at his tattered cloak. "Those are the only times you are happy! I can't believe something angered you more than the banana incident!"

"Do not make me start on that banana, servant."

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for careful.**_

"Faster! We're moving to the Potionarium!" Plague Knight screeched. "Now, hee, be careful, those barrels contain nitrogen triiodide and cluster powder. You know what those are! Those are very volatile! Cluster powder and nitroglycerin put together is a disas-"

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for careless.**_

Mona looked at the Explodatorium with melancholy in her heart. Plague Knight was there, experimenting. She didn't know how to feel – should she feel happy because he was researching? Or sad because she had always wanted him to dance with-

A sizeable explosion on one good chunk of his laboratory could be seen from the top of the Potionarium, followed by a several low _booms_. Mona put her hand over her gaping mouth in horror.

/later that day/

"You know… the bigger the explosion, the better the alchemist…" Mona said as she squeezed Plague Knight close to her. She wasn't exactly hugging the small alchemist. She was restraining a furious boss, whose rage immediately subsided at her touch.

"Hee… Mona, I suppose that's correct."

"We just have to worry about rebuilding the entire western wing of the Explodatorium." She smiled nervously.

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for consultation.**_

"Propeller Knight!" King Knight cried as he literally crawled out of one of the Flying Machine's ventilation systems, interrupting the Frenchman's deep thoughts. He fell in an un-kingly manner to the hard floor.

"You were in the ventilation this whole time?" Propeller Knight rubbed his chin. "So that's why it's searing hot inside the airship. I was about to order an excursion to the Clockwork Tower and have it fixed."

"Yes, I turned off your fans. I have a very big problem!"

"And what would that be? Did a woman catch your eye?" Propeller Knight gracefully spun around, seemingly forgetting the unholy temperature. "A fair maiden, whose eyes shine like stars in the sky? Whose grace is like a leaf falling in the breeze? Whose hair is sunshine gold? Whose voice serenades the birds that sing in the trees?"

King Knight gawked at the dancing fencer. "Why would you assume that? I have my own charm!"

"What is a man's problem when they are so desperate to crawl through my vents just to come to me for whatever advice he needs?"

"Earlier today, rocks were thrown at me!"

He slapped his palm to his helmet. "Ahh, _mon ami_ , that would be about your reign. I do not give leadership workshops, although I do know how to rule."

"No, it is never about my rule!" King Knight angrily denied. "It's… it's my fashion! This," He pointed to his gold armor and red cape, "is a fashion disaster in my kingdom!"

"Try wearing purple this time. Replace the red. Purple is the color of royalty." Propeller Knight flatly answered. "Try to learn what charms the ladies. That is fashionable. Or try not to use armor this time. The human eye can only handle shining armor so much. Try using what I wear. Nobleman's garb."

"I am a _king!_ "

"Kings are upper nobility, I think…"

"Royalty is separate from nobility!"

"Fine, let us consult Mole Knight on the matter!"

/a few hours later/

"So… is royalty separate from the nobility, Mole Knight?" Propeller Knight asked as he fanned himself. Mole Knight generously dumped a bucket of iced water on the unconscious King Knight, who had fainted in the heat.

"Well, that depends on the political system of the individual country." Doctor of Anthropology, Mole Knight, answered, scratching his head. "I've dug out several civilizations before that seem to have nobility that rule. Somewhat an aristocracy, we believe."

"Ah, so they are separate?" Propeller Knight groaned.

"Sometimes, sometimes not." Mole Knight shrugged and rambled on. "If you're talking about Pridemoor's social stratification and power distribution, it seems that nobility and royalty are only aspects of the same term. Both of them have absolute power to a degree, but the king has true total power. The high nobles appear to be able to command lower ranked nobles, which, of course, can be nullified by the king's orders. Taxes are distributed with the majority share to the King."

Propeller Knight thought. "So, they are the same?"

"I don't know! Which social group are you talking about anyways? I have digging to do!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for cold.**_

Tinker Knight shivered under two layers of blankets Polar Knight had provided. "It's… so cold…"

"Yrr orrright?" Treasure Knight asked.

"I think so…"

"Treasure Knight, build an igloo." Polar Knight ordered as he picked up the small person and warmed him with his large hands.

"I'm… thankful I'm small… small things conduct heat… faster… no resistance…"

"Drr I brrng him brrck tr hrrs Towrr?" Treasure Knight offered.

"When Plague Knight arrives with the medicine." He said with dripping contempt. "I never thought that wizard would be useful."

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for cold.**_

The little alchemist quietly crawled through the igloo's small opening.

"You are late." Polar Knight grumbled.

"I know, Beard Knight, hee, but I will have you know, I _spread_ disease, not _prevent_ it."

As if on cue, Tinker Knight opened his mouth wide as he fought off something that wanted to burst out of his body.

"Rrr noo!" Treasure Knight shouted in distress. "Not nrrw!"

" _Achoo!_ " The toymaker sneezed right on Plague Knight's bird face.

Polar Knight glared at Plague Knight as if to say, 'did you just do that?'

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for courtship.**_

"You know, flyboy, what could have happened if I actually went to you years ago for courtship lessons rather than stealing your essence?" Plague Knight asked with an innocent tone. Propeller Knight gazed down at the alchemist and immediately thought up a fitting scenario.

" _Um, hee, Propeller Knight, I… need your help…"_

 _The Frenchman spun around gracefully and flashed his shit-eating grin._

" _I heard the most_ delicious _rumor… you envy my suave, daring nature?"_

 _Plague Knight was flabbergasted. "What?"_

" _You come to me here for… looooove advice?"_

" _Where'd you learn that?"_

" _I am an expert on the subject,_ mon ami _! I have a keen sense!" Propeller Knight boasted before sauntering handsomely towards the surprised alchemist._

" _Well… hee, yes, I did come for that."_

" _Alright, then!" Propeller Knight snapped a finger. Several Hoverhafts flew in with a table, a bottle of wine, a red tablecloth, a grand bouquet of red roses, and two glasses of wine. They carefully placed the cloth, glass, and bottle on the table. The French captain pointed to a random Hoverhaft and gestured for him to stay in the room._

" _Now,_ mon ami, _your lessons start."_

" _That was fast, hee."_

" _Ladies look for grace. Ladies look for strength and willpower! A woman will love a man who jumps at the chance to elegantly sweep them off their feet!"_

 _Plague Knight nodded like an obedient pupil._

" _Women like their men dangerous!"_

" _Hee. I_ am _dangerous!"_

" _Awkwardness will NEVER tolerated by women of class… assuming that's the type of lady you are trying to woo?"_

 _The alchemist put his tiny hand under his mask's beak. "Certainly. She is… stunning."_

" _Women," Propeller Knight grabbed his Hoverhaft, who awkwardly stumbled, and danced the waltz, "want to be treated as goddesses by men, and what else do we do to snatch their hearts –_ mes dieux _, assistant, such stiff_ movement! Danse avec moi!"

 _A male voice hissed back at him. "Of course, I vas never a seductive man like you."_

" _Oh, it's Albrecht!_ _Anyway, my little student," Propeller Knight turned around while the Hoverhaft fumed in rage over his mispronounced name, "what do you do first to win her heart?"_

" _Uhh…" Plague Knight hesitantly walked to the table. The Frenchman smiled as Plague Knight advanced to the table. He watched him point his finger at the bottle of wine for a moment before the bouquet of roses._

" _Pretend I am a woman." Propeller Knight kindly said._

 _Plague Knight nodded and picked up the bouquet. Mustering his confidence, he turned around and awkwardly handed the flowers to Propeller Knight._

" _Ah, Plague Knight!" Propeller Knight squeed in a comically high-pitched voice. "How sweet!"_

" _Um, thanks, Mo- dear."_

 _The Frenchman shifted back to his normal voice. "But that was not enough." He snatched the bouquet from Plague Knight's small hands and spun around dramatically. "Women like grace!"_

" _I know! But I… am not graceful!"_

" _Then let me show you!" He hovered to Albrecht, who had quit ranting. Albrecht gawked when his captain knelt before him and offered him the flowers with a flirtatious smile. "_ Mademoiselle _, flowers… for you."_

"Was machen Sie?"

" _I don't know, but pretend to be a woman for a moment." Propeller Knight gloomily said._

"Nein! _" Albrecht crossed his arms and started to hover away. Propeller Knight flew to follow the poor German, who accelerated in air. The knight only persevered and flew faster to maintain his distance from his annoyed servant._

" _Ah, Plague Knight, see? Women like to be pursued by her men!" Propeller Knight laughed as he took advantage of the situation._

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for concert.**_

From the perspective of a young blue Liquid Samurai, everything around it worked in odd ways.

It observed the Tower where it was born in, and it seemed too tall, ugly, and outlandish, but it resided in it. It didn't really care.

It observed the blue horned person defend against its comrades with nothing but a glorified shovel. It didn't really care.

It heard of the blue horned person's adventures with a red person with wings on her head. It marveled at their influence and prowess, but in the end, it didn't really care.

It followed a being it couldn't truly comprehend, but it didn't really care. At all. Its comrades wondered about its lack of passion, but it didn't really care. It observed the peculiar eight warriors that also followed the being but were outside of the ranks of the samurai. At the end, it didn't really care about anyone in the Order of No Quarter, except for that flying person who used a weak sword. It was always disturbed at the sight of what the person called a rapier.

It did care about the gold person with a familiar string instrument and a funny headdress. When the person played his lute the first time it heard… it was suddenly filled with… inspiration?

 _Hai!_

Inspiration! What it truly cared about was… music, and it was going to play its odd western instrument and sing its song with all his passion. No minding the entire group of knights eating on a nearby dinner table, he was going to have a concert whenever and wherever it damn well pleased. It started its song with highly energetic notes and sang its liquid heart out.

 _ **.**_

 _ **C is for cash.**_

"Ngeh!" Propeller Knight's enraged German Hoverhaft grumbled as he put out the fire that ravaged part of the Flying Machine.

All of the perpetrators hid behind the stoic Polar Knight as they watched the servant pour bags of sand on the dying flames. Propeller Knight stared at the perpetrators, arms akimbo, his silent glare only meaning death and destruction. None of them had seen Propeller Knight like that. They were used to the carefree and charming Frenchman, not the current furious and vengeful knight standing before them.

"GAH!" Albrecht finally put out the last flame and then threw his bag of sand effortlessly across the room in pure anger.

The Order of No Quarter, hiding behind Polar Knight, pushed Treasure Knight forward. The pillager turned to his comrades in confusion, only to have Plague Knight sign for him to step forward. Treasure Knight gasped in realization.

"Mrr? Pay frr damrrge? Hrrll no."

" _Oui._ Pay for ze damage!" Propeller Knight barked, his French accent thickening as he hovered forward. Even Treasure Knight jumped backward. "Ze Flying Machine, my magneefeecent ship ees RUEEENED!"

"Rrkay, rrkay, rrkay, rrkay, rrkay!" Treasure Knight lifted his helmet clumsily and put his other hand up. "I'll pay, I'll pay!"

 _ **Up next: D is for death.**_

 _Translation/s:_

 _un petit chat -_ a little cat (French)

 _minou-_ kitty (French)

 _danse avec moi - dance with me_

 _was machen Sie? -_ what are you doing? (German)

 _hai -_ yes (Japanese)


	4. D is for death

_To Pipo Rabbit: C is for careful was the real start of my descent into madness. I hope you enjoy the others as well and thank you for reading!_

 _To Void Knight: Sorry, I didn't notice your review email D: Void Knight's not been used as far as I know, but it's a very cool name! The main problem I had with making these is if anyone is OOC, yes, but with little dialogue, little personal quirks, vague endings, and small bios, I had to base our beloved knights from those. For example, Specter Knight's character is secretly emotional, quick to anger, and kind of shoving into everyone he's a 'reaper' because of his endings which I shall not spoil, his manner of speech, and general behavior. If you have a fanfiction account, I can send to you the rules on each person's characterization I try to follow!_

 _To others… this is a longer thing than I intended it to be, so I cut the words for D to 5. Review if you'd like to see five more words because I really thought a chapter around 3500 words is too much compared to the others I'll make._

 ** _._**

 ** _D is for device._**

Tinker Knight sprinted to King Knight, holding an odd-looking device in his tiny hands. Part of him was cursing himself for resorting to King Knight, of all people, to test a new device. But he reasoned. He was talkative as hell, so he'd be the perfect one for the testing! Yes! Test subject for the day; the current monarch of Pridemoor. What could possibly go wrong?

"KIIIING KNIIIGHT." Tinker Knight bellowed, prompting the decadent dandy to spin around.

"Yes, little subject?"

The tinker rolled his eyes. "Hey, can you test this for me?"

"Yes, why not?" King Knight nodded. "I'm alright. What is that?"

"It's a sound recording device I invented just yesterday!" Tinker Knight gleefully explained. "This is where the device will store-"

"I am _not_ able to understand everything else that comes out of your mouth afterwards." King Knight wagged a finger and put it over the small man's mask, roughly where he assumed his mouth was. "Speak English, for fashion's sake!"

"Okay!" Tinker Knight slapped the hand on his mask. "Just speak into the... bunch of little holes while depressing the button, which is over here." He pointed to a small cluster of dots on the device and a small red button.

King Knight snatched the new device from the tinker's hands. "I'll test it now."

"It doesn't have much of an energy source. Give it back to me by this afternoon."

"Yes, yes! Of course. I'm off to Pridemoor! Propeller Knight and I are having a contest now and I can NOT be late." He strutted away. "Punctuality is a good source of fabulousness points."

"Huh. Good luck, then."

/a few hours later/

Tinker Knight looked over the dismantled device and wondered what was up with both King Knight and Propeller Knight. Both barged in his workshop, helmets off and a very concerned look on their faces. They were smiling nervously, stammering nervously, and even walking nervously. They both denied the obvious change in personality. He had rolled his eyes and shoved the two broken egos out of his workshop.

What bothered the two most flamboyant men he knew in his whole life to shake their confidence-

 _Oh. My device._

He took a rectangular object out of the neatly arranged pieces lying on his table. He plugged more odd devices into the object and flicked a labeled switch from 'record' to 'listen'. King Knight's rich voice filled his entire room.

" _Is this even working? I hope it is, because I AM GOING TO WIN THIS DAMN CONTEST. Let this device record history!"_

" _Hey!"_ A not-so-faint voice barked. It was Propeller Knight. _"I will win."_

He snickered. _"Oui oui baguette Propeller."_

Tinker Knight prepared to slap a hand to his face.

" _Yes, haha!"_ The Frenchman laughed, seemingly ignoring the bad French the other knight uttered. Ladies started to scream and chant his name.

" _I AM POSING FABULOUSLY. LOOK AT ME."_ King Knight panted afterwards. More women started to shriek the other knight's name. Tinker Knight could only imagine the ridiculous events documented in the recording and sank his face onto his arms instead. It was a success, and the combined voices of ladies and fellow knights were starting to irritate him. He reached to turn off the thing when a dreadful silence played. He frowned. The battery life was _that_ short? He glanced at the object. It was still running.

" _What are you doing here?"_ It was Propeller Knight who broke the eerie silence. Tinker Knight leaned towards the recorder. _What on this green earth is happening now?_

" _Yes! You're frightening our beautiful ladies!"_ King Knight rather loudly spoke. " _Begone, knave!"_

" _Knave?"_ A third joined in. _"What an insult."_

The engineer frowned deeper. What was Specter Knight doing in the recording?

" _What's your objective here, reaper?"_ The Frenchman scoffed.

" _Oh, it's a small request. I'm simply here to play with you and this contest."_

" _Hah! You? Excusez-moi. We're in the final round."_

" _You don't possess the extravagance and magnificence the both of us have, Specter Knight!"_

 _There was a low chuckle. "Heh. You two are simply trying too hard."_

Tinker Knight grumbled exasperatedly under his breath about hypocrisy.

" _Oh damn me he's going to remove his helmet…"_

" _Mes dieux… mes yeux…"_

" _I think I'm going to need potions to erase my memory…"_

" _I need to cover my eyes."_

" _No not my cape you-"_

" _I don't need to see a nightmare today."_

" _Oh gods he already has his hood down AND PLEASE DON'T SMOTHER YOUR FACE ON ME-"_

Tinker Knight briefly wondered how King Knight could still press the button.

" _Help me King Knight…"_

" _Let us tremble fashionably in this corner of the stage."_

" _Ah, dieux, he's removing his helmet…"_

" _WHY are my eyes glued to him - help me avert my eyes…"_

" _I cannot avert mine as well!"_

" _Nooooooo!"_

"Nooooooonnn!"

" _He's halfway there I cannot close mine eyes."_

" _Me too. What kind of dark magic is this, mon ami - OH MY GOODNESS HE IS-"_

The ladies present were absolutely hysterical, drowning the Frenchman's voice. Tinker Knight's device started to spark as the ladies' screaming mixed with both knights' voices. The rectangular object exploded on his table, and the engineer couldn't help but stare at his invention, now on fire.

 ** _._**

 ** _D is for day._**

" _Professor."_ The student said very firmly, in contrast to her already tattered field garments and gaunt face. "It's been three days. Admit it, sir, we're _lost._ "

"Mole Knight's search parties will come out if we're lost, young lady!" The ditzy professor claimed.

"Mole Knight is a member of the Order of No Quarter, sir! Have you forgotten? They're forbidden from even getting near the village! _We're beside the village of death!"_ The student's voice cracked, seething with anger. "I've got an entire field report that you require, and the deadline is next week! When are we actually going to the archaeological site? THIS IS THE ONLY SUBJECT I NEED BEFORE I GRADUATE AND ACTUALLY WORK."

"Well then, your graduation will probably be delayed, young lady."

"NOOOOO!"

 ** _._**

 ** _D is for death._**

His thoughts were plagued with terrified screams and voices from his memories. No matter what he did, those still haunted him every day and night.

It was never pleasant for the apparition.

" _Go away, you ghost! Don't come back here! I don't like you! I hate you!"_

" _Mommy! Daddy! I'm scared…"_

" _You're not him! I don't have a dreadful friend! I never had you as a friend!"_

 _It's me… don't you remember me? Does anyone still know me?_

" _You're a horrible being! You're no longer the knight I know! Monster!"_

" _Get the light! The undead dares to approach me! Banish it to hell! Abominations must be wiped away from the earth we walk."_

" _You pretend to be him? Get lost, loathsome creature. He is dead. Let him rest!"_

 _Is anyone going to listen to me?_

 _I still love you all…_

"Are you alright? Do you need anything, master?" His personal assistant asked, her voice drowning out the horrible memories in his mind. He smiled fondly. She was excellent at what he actually employed her for – to help him cope a little bit.

 ** _._**

 ** _D is for drink._**

From the perspective of a young green Liquid Samurai, everything around it worked in odd ways.

It observed the Tower where it was born in, and it seemed too tall, ugly, and outlandish, but it resided in it. It was very ecstatic to live in such a tall tower. Its skill in precise archery benefited from it. Enemies either died in the lower levels of the tower or retreated due to its fellow liquid archers' lethal arrows. It didn't like falling down from the top, though, and it wished its master would fix that problem. But it wouldn't be called a tower…

It observed the blue horned person defend against its comrades with nothing but a glorified shovel. It couldn't help but marvel at the unorthodox weapon of this blue person.

It heard of the blue horned person's adventures with a red person with wings on her head. It marveled at their influence and prowess to the point it almost sympathized, but well, the master wouldn't like it and erase it from existence earlier than it would like.

It followed a being it couldn't truly comprehend, and it was hesitant. It observed the peculiar eight warriors that also followed the being but were outside of the ranks of the samurai. Seven out of eight were alive, and the last one was dead. It envied the dead person because it can never live on in a second life, only able to be cruelly ripped out from reality when either it or its master has been defeated. It idolized the big man with the big shovel, because he reminded it of the blue person. It liked the gold knights, the bird person, the mole person, the fishy person, and the tiny person, all of which used unconventional weaponry. It absolutely loathed the green person with the weird things on his head because of his weak sword. Who uses a thin blade to fight, anyway? What an unpractical choice… but the other warriors were also using unpractical weaponry. Oh well. It started liking the green person anyway.

Since it liked every one of the Order of No Quarter, no discrimination left, it prepared a table by the devices they called 'conveyer belts' and placed ten glasses on it. It even brought an entire case of the drinks it thought they would love, and left a note written with all its friendliness. It was all it could do anyway.

It left immediately when it heard the clanking of armor nearby, expecting the blue person.

King Knight was actually the first to arrive at the end of the Tower. Aside from happily celebrating his punctuality, he was damn tired. A king wasn't just fit for the arduous exercise, right? He leaned on a table that he never noticed and almost knocked the mugs and bottles. With a true monarch's reflexes, he caught them before they could even try to topple. With a true monarch's grace, he sighed in relief.

Then he noticed the liquor.

With a true monarch's mind, he pondered.

In a short time, he just decided to take a swig anyway.

/a few seconds afterwards/

Specter Knight was getting absolutely aggravated that day. He wondered if he was torturing himself. Why did he have to go through all the trouble of slaying a few victims here and there when he could just teleport from his lair? He then glared at the suspicious table of liquor.

 _Does an apparition even get drunk by mortal's brew?_

He almost wished he dragged his personal aide with him. It was a question worth considering, especially when his previous humanity was concerned. If the answer was yes, then the drunk one would be his assistant. Will she spill all her secrets to him? Or will she simply pass out? Will she act seductive? None mattered, except for the last part, because he simply didn't know what to do in when it happens. Even with all his gifts, women baffled him. Well… at least he wasn't the one losing control over himself. The thought of him revealing all his plans, all his secrets, the story of his past, was horrible. If the answer was no, then his assistant wouldn't be drunk and would just continue on normally, probably begging for him to let her go back to the Yard where she felt more comfortable.

The statistical chances of the possibilities of getting drunk or not getting drunk were at least fifty-fifty.

 _Hmm._

He decided not to risk his self-control, but took a glass to pour a generous amount of sample into it. He'd feed it to his aide later.

/some explosions later/

Plague Knight heaved and wheezed on the floor as he passed the safe zone. His determination to brew his Ultimate Potion was already slipping. He thought of her. Mona's smile flashed in his mind. He mustered his courage upon thinking of her and, with a little effort, picked himself back up.

He made a mistake and stepped on the conveyor belts. He was abruptly pulled by the belts, and he couldn't do anything but wait for it to throw him to the table at the other end. And bang his head against the table he unintentionally did. Clutching his poor head with such tiny hands, he moaned and stood back up and saw the glasses and the bottle of liquid.

 _Plaguey, if you ever see any potion, anything, that's not made by me, don't trust it._

Mona's stern and concerned voice from a few years ago softly spoke in his mind. And since it was Mona… he bomb bursted out of there and climbed up the tower.

/yet another knight later/

Tinker Knight dusted off lint from his apron. A lot of liquid people were defeated by his mechanical tank, and he was ready for more. Not for more fighting, though. His hands and arms were tired throwing wrenches and activating devices. He was ready for something to drink or eat, and that's when he found the table with one used glass.

The engineer grabbed the refreshments on the table and poured himself some drinks. He quietly thanked whoever placed the drinks there and gulped the contents down, not realizing he was drinking liquor. When he opened his eyes after chugging three more glasses, his world was spinning and warping, psychedelic colors filling his vision. Tinker Knight laughed. What a beautiful day to continue fighting.

/some digging after/

Mole Knight popped up from the floor and looked up at the next room. He jumped back in to take him up immediately, and immediately regretted it. Structures willing to crush him moved continuously from left to right. The wretched Blorbs waited in the first part of the room. Exploding rats ran on blocks that easily gave way to any force exerted on them. Liquid archers waited patiently at the top, ready to fire at him. He only wanted to get to the soiree and not get pierced with whatever the liquid guys shot at him nor get scorched by combustible green rats nor get crushed to a pulp nor get green harmful slime in his armor.

He went back to the conveyor belt room and sat on the ground to think of a solution. His moles couldn't get to the other side without getting damaged, so he couldn't dig his way up. Mole Knight's eyes fell on the table to his right. He recognized the liquor as some sort of ancient beer. He then stood up, poured himself a glass, and more than happily lowered his own inhibitions. To hell with it.

What's better than dealing with insanity through drunkenness?

/some propeller blade noises/

Propeller Knight zoomed past everything as soon as he saw King Knight pass the last obstacle to the safe zone. He wasn't letting the other guy get to the party earlier than him! He pushed the last Hover Meanie away with a short and stern statement in French before arriving at the conveyor belt 'safe' zone. He was ready to fly up when he almost flew past the table of liquor. He quickly took out his own goblet, poured the drink into it, and gracefully went up.

He was in too much of a hurry to stay and drink anyway.

/more stomping/

Polar Knight eyed the liquor on the table as if trying to catch a mouse, poured himself a glass, and took a sip. He nodded and declared his approval.

"I like it."

Treasure Knight arrived shortly afterwards, greeting the old warrior politely with a muffled voice.

"Hrrlo, Prrlar Knirght." He said.

"Greetings, Treasure Knight." The Stalwart answered.

"Whrrt is thrrt?" Treasure Knight's non-anchor hand pointed at the table. "Crrn't srr."

"Liquor, beer, I have no idea. Mead? It doesn't taste like mead." Polar Knight put a giant fist on his chin. "It's still very good."

"Try."

Polar Knight shrugged, poured a glass for his comrade, and stepped aside, letting the diver step forward. He carefully handed him the glass of unknown liquor. Treasure Knight lifted his helmet up and held the glass to his lips to drink from it. The forces of malevolent fate caused his helmet to slip from his anchor, letting it fall and shatter the glass in half. The liquor in the glass went on the pillager's body instead of into the stomach, drenching the usually dry person underneath. Small glass shards collected around his hips, causing him to try and wiggle himself out. He only succeeded in knocking the table over and shattering almost every glass. Polar Knight swiftly grabbed the half-empty bottle before it could get to the floor, then briefly looked at the bottle and decided he'd bring it up to the dinner for the others to share.

"Frrk."

"I'm not a native speaker of English, but watch your language."

/after some mighty shovellin'/

Shovel Knight had no idea what on earth was the reason why a table, several used and untouched glasses, and a note on Japanese were just near the checkpoint. He wasn't going to trust calligraphy he couldn't even read. What's worse was that almost all of the glasses were shattered. What was the use? Was the Enchantress hoping he'd get drunk on the way to her? Heck no. He shrugged and skipped it, plunging himself on the dangers of the room above.

 ** _._**

 ** _D is for drunk. WARNING: bad puns incoming. Reader discretion is advised._**

"King Knight is part of a circle, because he is a monARCh." Shovel Knight giggled, followed by most of the Order's cackling, especially Tinker Knight.

"Oh, man, they didn't lie about your punslinging capabilities!" Tinker Knight clutched his stomach, belly muscles turning to steel. "Tell us more!"

"Here, _mon ami,_ have more of my drink!" Propeller Knight drunkenly offered his goblet, which the Blue Burrower accepted. He sipped, placed the goblet down, eerie silence filling the room.

"Do you know why wolves are relatives of dogs?" The Knight of Shovel asked. "Because they say 'wolf wolf'!"

More chortling.

"Until now, Shovel Knight, you still tell bad puns." Polar Knight laughed along. "I don't regret meeting you at all."

"Tell a pun about food, hee!" Plague Knight requested eagerly, not quite drunk yet rolled with the puns. After all, the kid Reize told him something worse, and he laughed his ass off. Plague Knight's sense of humor was… questionably insane, to say the least.

"A dad tomato and a kid tomato were rolling in the kitchen one day. The kid tomato started to slow down, and the dad tomato squashes kid tomato a bit, saying… 'catch up'."

Seven out of eight merciless knights roared with laughter, capturing the attention of a certain red liquid samurai and the Enchantress herself. She watched from afar, wondering why she sought the help of these drunkards.

"Another!" Polar Knight threw his mug away, the glass shattering upon impact on a nearby wall.

Shovel Knight paused a bit before an imaginary bulb turned on. "Specter Knight floats into a bar. What does he order? Anything with a SCYTHE dish of garlic bread!"

The apparition in question glared furiously at the drunken blue shovel-swinger, and shook his head, quietly wishing he didn't attend the soiree and was still in the Lich Yard listening to his rambling and shy assistant. At least her rambles were less offensive than puns about him.

"Isn't that DEADLY for him?" Treasure Knight grinned stupidly before the entire room filled with the chuckles of the others sans Specter Knight.

"Also heard the Lich Yard's overpopulated!" Shovel Knight exclaimed. "I see the dead folks have a GRAVE problem!"

"Why are you all making the worst puns I've ever heard?" Specter Knight sighed.

"Oh, you're so gloomy!" Plague Knight cackled. "Lighten up, spooky ghost."

"Laughter is the SOUL medicine for your problems!" Shovel Knight injected as he chuckled more.

"You are so PUNNY, Shovel Knight!" Mole Knight praised.

"Thank you very much!" The blue knight paused as a joke flashed in his mind upon looking at Mole Knight. "Why is the archaeologist sad? Because his career is in RUINS!"

Laughter was about to ensue when Mole Knight stood up abruptly, causing his chair to topple backward. "What the hell did you just say about me, shovel wielder?!"

Shovel Knight repeated his joke.

"I… hate you!" Mole Knight jumped on the table and clawed at Shovel Knight. "DIE!"

"No fighting on the table!" Polar Knight scolded loudly.

 ** _Up next: E is for eggs benedict._**


	5. E is for eggs benedict

_To Void Knight: Welp. I'd love for a more efficient method of communication! Were the puns okay enough for you? I think I wasn't completely sane. I'm happy I made at least one guy chuckle. If_ _Banana- Specter Knight's DLC campaign would involve at least some insight on his life story, I'll be so dang happy I'll fall to the ground with a foaming mouth, unless it's a romance-centric campaign like Plague Knight's._

 _Also, I decided to decrease the words to less than 10 because I'd really like E is for eggs benedict to be a more serious chapter. If it doesn't entertain much, I'll be making up for F and onwards._

 ** _._**

 ** _E is for exams._**

The students all looked at their small bird-masked teacher with wide eyes, twitching and trembling a bit. Some students had their hands clasped together and raised in the teacher's direction, muttering quiet pleas. Plague Knight looked back, rolled his eyes once, and then cleared his throat.

"Your final exams will be tomorrow." The little alchemist announced callously. His announcement had interesting effects; a lot of his students started to break down and weep, and others banged their heads on the table. One even lamented loudly about his procrastination and failing grades.

 ** _._**

 ** _E is for earth._**

Shovel Knight swung his dirt-caked shovel blade at the flying Frenchman almost blindly with all the panic in the world in his pounding heart. The wind had pushed him near the edge of the deck and one more hit from the Flying Machine's very lively captain would earn him one more loss. He had no idea how that thin rapier could even hurt his completely armored body, but Propeller Knight managed somehow!

The sharp shovel hit the very delicate point between the Frenchman's head and his propeller blades. Both knights gasped, one from the sheer and unexpected luck of hitting that weak point, and the other in complete surprise.

The propellers were severed from the helmet itself. Propeller Knight screamed dramatically as a rose suddenly flew out of his garb for some reason. Shovel Knight shouted multiple profanities when he saw the Frenchman fall off the deck, without anything to bring him back up. It also attracted the attention of several Hoverhafts. A panicked cacophony of _mes dieux_ and one _meine Götter_ immediately ensued, followed by all of them diving down to their frightened and screeching captain. Halberds were dropped, a shovel was raised, propellers were turned, and a horde of Frenchmen and one German had to disembark their ship in such a bad time.

Air lost against earth in a battle of elements, but not in the way Shovel Knightintended.

 ** _._**

 ** _E is for eggs benedict._**

The tiny plaguemaster cracked his eyes open, his lungs and insides twisting and aching. He turned to his side, curled up into a ball, and coughed, small clouds of green gas coming out from his mouth each time he breathed. His poison got to him worse than he thought. Plague Knight, the vector of pestilence, the maker of poison, was nearly killed by the own weapons he created. What evil fortune.

It was good he was still alive and safe from an ironic death. Still alive, but he felt much weaker than he ever felt in his entire life. Plague Knight made some effort to sit up and then examined the room he was in despite the world spinning all around him. The sores and wounds on his skin caused by his recklessness were cleaned and bandaged properly, and they only stung with minimal pain. He was squeaky clean from top to bottom, unlike his usual sweaty and grimy self. The bed he was lying on was clean and neat, the blanket draped over him nicely. Red tapestries hung on the wooden walls, and the torches burned only enough to dimly illuminate the room.

He turned his head to the bedside table, where a whole glass of a glowing red potion stood. It was still bubbling, fresh out of whatever cauldron the potion was concocted in. A note in graceful and feminine handwriting was under the glass. Plague Knight took it and read its contents.

 _Good day, Plague Knight. It's a health potion I made. If you wake up without me by your bedside, you may drink the potion._

 _Signed, Mona._

Plague Knight sighed, thinking of how reckless he was to result in _him getting poisoned_. He then gulped down the potion. _Wow,_ he marveled, _that was a fine brew._ He stared at the health potion, made in better conditions by a better alchemist. It was leagues better than his best health potion - the feeling of rest and rejuvenation washing over him. He didn't notice a tall woman holding a tray of food enter his room until the food's scent wafted through the air and to him. Plague Knight perked up, his mouth watering at the smell of his favorite food.

"Are those…?" He glanced to the direction of the smell, and saw the beautiful young woman, her hair short, her height twice his own, and her face lovely as a jovial and pretty flower under the bright sunlight. His heart thumped quite ferociously somewhere in his ribcage.

"Eggs benedict, Plague Knight." She replied. "It's one of the only foods I can make down here with whatever's in the shelf."

"Eggs benedict… I already like it, hee."

She paused, and then smiled. "Your sense of smell is still intact. That's good. Here, Plague Knight. Eat up."

Mona placed the tray of eggs benedict on the bedside table and watched Plague Knight hungrily wolf down on the food she made. Plague Knight would look up at her briefly to watch her with some kind of curiosity, and she would grin at his egg-covered face. He smiled a crooked and awkward smile at her.

 ** _._**

 ** _E is for entrance._**

The ominous green clouds were overcast in the sky of the Tower, rain falling down in torrents. The rainwater made the stone floor of the Tower's entrance slippery and dangerous to navigate on. _The Mobile Gear would perform very poorly on the wet surface and the Propeller Dagger would eventually stop turning if rain made it in the mechanisms inside_ , Shovel Knight thought, as he readied his other relics. He tread carefully through the cursed Tower's outside, swinging his shovel blade as hard as he could at all enemies he encountered.

For a moment he remembered how Shield Knight and he had arrived before.

She had bashed her trusty shield, handcrafted by her father, against the more dangerous samurai and archers and samurai-archers, even protecting both him and herself from the slashes and arrows. One time, she had gleefully egged him onwards for the adventure the Tower offered, completely unaware of the evil that lurked in that one room at the top.

When they had entered, they knew it was a grave mistake. Swarms of liquid men attacked at once. Shovel Knight could not forget the last thing she did.

Shield Knight did not hesitate to push him off and send him tumbling downwards in the spiral stairs. Initially he didn't know that it was she who had pushed him off, and when he looked up, he realized. She desperately tried to push away the liquid enemies, but they only seemed to multiply in number. He remembered calling out her name, her _real_ name, before she was gone in the flood of the enemy. He had tried to climb back up to offer his offense-oriented help, but one samurai, a blue one, emerged out of nowhere and pushed him to a window and throw him out.

That was the last he saw of her.

 ** _._**

 ** _E is for the Enchantress._**

"When will I be able to do as I please?"

The Enchantress glared down at the knight below. He was no longer kneeling, no longer speaking in the respect she had enforced on him. His voice changed from soft and dry to harsh and emotional, something she did not _entirely_ expect. His glare was sharp and deadly, and his shriveled fists were trembling, almost glowing.

"What I can only do is to imprison myself in my own land." Specter Knight said. "I cannot do what I should have done a long time ago, Enchantress. Even before I died."

"You are ungrateful. You are soulless, and you can never attain what you desire. I gave you undeath, and you _will_ follow me to the end of time. That is your purpose." The Enchantress bellowed. The purple flames lighting the hall burst in greater intensity. She pushed herself off the window and floated downward, her black and violet dress flaring like fire. She halted when the recognizable red cloak of the apparition vanished into the air in swirls of red, and then recollected into a human shape. Its red form had more luster than the tattered cloak it was previously guised.

A woman, beautiful and known for tenacity, looked back at the Enchantress with disdainful light brown eyes.

 _You're very cruel, you know?_

"I thought I killed you." The Enchantress scoffed. "What are you doing?"

 _You revive a man and torture him afterwards. You allow an archaeologist to excavate and then prevent discovery. You lie to a seeker of love and thrill and lead him to a world of sadness. Villagers live in constant fear of you, except for the minstrel, I think. You're an unnecessary evil in this world, and deserve to be erased from existence!_

"I will do as I please, Shield Knight. You cannot influence me." She smirked. "You know, when your beloved comes here, I will make sure he loses, and you will no longer pester me."

 _I don't think so._

Shield Knight only gave her a veiled smile of contempt before fading away into thin air.

 ** _._**

 ** _E is for enemy._**

" _Yameru_!" A garbled voice barked.

Shovel Knight spun around and brandished his shovel. A red variant of the samurai enemies ran at him, his katana already raised. He stepped to the side, avoiding the cut of the sharp sword, and growled. He glowered at the samurai, recalling _her,_ how they swarmed upon her when she was alone at the top of the cursed Tower, and how he was locked out of the Tower because of one of its kin throwing him out.

It advanced on him again, sword raised. Shovel Knight blocked its next attack by parrying the enemy's sword and stepped away. He got to its back fast and then he immediately slashed at the abomination's head.

The samurai only reverted back to its small blob form and slowly melted on the floor. He scowled at the splatter of red and black viscous liquid, languidly crawling through cracks in the stone and gradually disappearing from sight.

The thing would just come back again after a short moment.

 ** _._**

 ** _E is for eternity._**

There was a big problem that came with immortality, something that can never be solved by any kind of magic nor willpower.

It was eternity.

His aide had brought it up before, that eternity seemed to be a very frightening entity, that they would spend unending life in a desolate land. Both of them would be confined to the Yard because they'd be regarded as unholy and monstrous creatures that gave up their humanity anyway. No one could possibly love the undead whatever they try to do - whether they dominate the world in tyrannical rule or act as benevolent spirits never mattered and will never earn the respect of mortal men, for atrocities can never be forgotten. He had no plans for the first one, nor did he think the second was possible.

The more he ruminated, the more he felt tired.

 _Is it worth it to live forever?_

 ** _._**

 ** _E is for endgame._**

Purple orbs flew out of the sorceress' palms, launched towards the enemy blue knight. Shovel Knight grunted as he jumped and landed on a safe floating platform. He glanced back and watched the other blocks of dirt get obliterated by the magic of his final obstacle.

A formless red shape, glimmering even in little light, manifested shortly into the form of Shield Knight. She cast a glance at the Enchantress and smirked. She was floating by the side of the blue burrower, her posture unchanging even as Shovel Knight frantically jumped on any platform undestroyed by the sorceress. The Enchantress just chuckled to herself, summoned a large inferno of fire, and willed it to rise up to her enemy.

Shovel Knight tried to run away, only to see the flames follow him with each step. He readied his Propeller Dagger and prepared to fly to a small floating piece of rock still within his reach, his last piece of salvation. He tried to avert his eyes from the unholy fires that swelled up to him.

A powerful gust of wind blew through the Tower lair, extinguishing the flames, and leaving behind more floating rocks for the blue knight to stand on. The Enchantress reeled back a bit, shocked that the wind came from her own power. Shovel Knight also looked at the new rocks in wonder, before gripping his shovel tighter, his resolve stronger, his heart beating, trusting the presence of his beloved. The eerie form of Shield Knight laughed defiantly at the Enchantress.

When she saw the fiery and utterly determined eyes of the little blue knight, she knew it was her end.

 ** _Up next: F is for French._**


	6. F is for French

_To Pipo Rabbit: 'Eggs benedict' is my take on Plague Knight and Mona's first meeting, thus it happens before anything in-game happened. The only hints I wrote in were Plague Knight still using poison and pestilence potions instead of explosives (his name and official bio HAS to come from somewhere, wouldn't it?) and his reaction when Mona first appears. Talk about love at first smell!_

 _To Spiked Dragon: You just reminded me of something I had thought of before I actually put this up here! Specter Knight didn't even taste a drop of that mystery Liquid Samurai beer thing BUT I did have the foresight to include him pouring a glass to force his personal assistant to drink… I have some cruel things to do. Yes, expect an H is for hangover part._

 _I'm very sorry if I update infrequently. I do have to transcribe most of what I write from paper into digital text (I'm also sorry for the chickenscratch that is my handwriting and I don't understand most of it anymore). I've got a heavy workload plus the other fanfic I'm trying to make. But I do promise this will not die until I complete it up to Z! You have my knight's word._

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for French._**

"Propeller Knight." Polar Knight spoke. "What is the French word for water?"

"Why'd you ask? You never were an icebreaker before." Propeller Knight inquired back.

"My daughter had always asked me that when she was still little." Polar Knight smiled briefly at the thought of his little girl eagerly asking him the question with wide eyes. "She is all grown-up now and I don't think I have ever answered her."

"Ahh, so adorable of you, Father Knight!" He grinned. "Tell her it's ' _eau'_."

The Nordic warrior's brow furrowed. "What?"

" _Eau._ "

"Eugh?"

" _Eau_."

"Ooh?"

"I said _eau_." Propeller Knight internally cursed his own mother tongue. _Polar Knight better get this_ , he thought.

The Stalwart had never given up in the face of doom, but the French language was already toppling his great boulder-like will. He stopped munching on his food and gaped at the Frenchman, brows already knitted together.

" _Eau._ "

"Spell it, Propeller Knight."

"E-A-U."

Polar Knight glowered. "Argh."

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for follower._**

"Ahaha!" King Knight happily clapped at the sight of the 'enthusiastic' crowd cheering his name below the balcony. "I have the best followers in the world!"

Propeller Knight scoffed. " _Non!_ I have the best! Now, _mon ami,_ let me show you that _I_ am superior!" He flew out of the balcony, much to the crowd's awe.

"Well, let me see you!" King Knight challenged.

Propeller Knight only chuckled. He raised his rapier and shouted at the top of his lungs. " _Venez à moi!_ "

" _Oui Seigneur!"_ The crew of the Flying Machine chorused as the entire airship arrived at the castle.

Propeller Knight laughed his annoying laugh, unaware of his friend. King Knight curled his fist and quietly snarled at the flying fencer.

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for flowers of antimony._**

Plague Knight leaned his weight on his cane as he tried to stand up from the bed. Since his 'accident' with his own poison, three movements accompanied him as he tried to do the normally easy action of standing up after waking up; a step, a wobble, and either a fall to the floor or another step.

He wobbled, his weak legs almost collapsing and head spinning. He closed his eyes and braced himself for another painful and embarrassing fall to the floor, his tiny hands grasping the cane tightly. But nothing came.

He opened his eyes, and looked downwards. His feet were planted on the floor firmly, and the floor was nowhere near his face. After a stunned moment, he tried shifting his weight from his cane to his feet, wobbling a little bit at times. He held his right hand outwards, balancing himself as he experimented. Plague Knight let out a small chuckle when his legs finally stopped shaking.

"Hey! Mona!" He called out happily. "I have good news!"

Mona appeared by the door a moment later, holding his greenish mask. She squinted a little when he saw Plague Knight standing up on his own, and laughed when he put on a grin and waved his cane around.

"Alright, Plague Knight, don't take risks yet." She sternly said, wagging a finger. "Good job on not falling down. Now sit down."

Plague Knight did as he was told. Mona smiled at him, approached, and carefully put his mask back on his face. Under the safety of the bird mask, his face turned into a deep shade of magenta. She tied the string on the back of his head into a tight knot. He inhaled deeply, and paused. The fragrant smell of flowers, along with something he couldn't describe, assaulted his senses. It was aromatic, a smell he could only describe as close to flower but not quite a flower. He sniffed the air again and tilted his head.

"H-hey, Mona, I smell something… different today." He said, turning his head up to look at Mona. "I actually feel a lot better."

"I found some antimony." She answered.

"Antimony?" He gasped. "Where did you find… antimony?"

"I bribed a weird guy earlier today. Someone who likes sleeping in treasure chests."

Plague Knight's mouth went agape. "Where'd he find this much antimony?"

"I don't know, but at least we have enough to last you a lifetime."

"How did he find medicine-grade antimony?" His words came out of his mouth faster than a shot arrow.

"I think he likes stealing stuff from healers. Best be thankful of the supply we have!" She smiled wide. "You'll live a while longer."

Plague Knight couldn't help but sigh. "Thanks a lot, Mona."

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for fish._**

A small fish, orange-gold in color, shimmering in the submarine's light, swam past the sitting pillager on the mountain of gold pieces.

Treasure Knight put his non-anchor hand up and followed the small glimmering fish. It was just as big as half of his pinky finger. He stared silently at it as it seemed to swim around in circles above his hand. He stood up as slowly as he can and looked at the tiny fish through his blurry glass. It was a pretty fish; small, shiny, and seemingly lost.

The longer he looked at the fish, the more it saw it was swimming slightly on its side. It was wobbling, like a fish close to death. He looked around a little before capturing the fish in his hands and going down the gold mountain.

A school of identical fish, all of them larger than his fish, swam by the foot of the gold mountain. There were seven other fish in the area. Treasure Knight gently opened an exit for his little fish to swim through.

The shiny orange fish went through, and swam towards the group of other fish. Treasure Knight watched as it moved, noticing it not swimming with the tightly packed group of seven. The cluster of fish went away while the little one tried to approach. At least one other fish faced the tiny one, but later left with the group. Treasure Knight's shoulders dropped a little.

"You and I," Treasure Knight mumbled, "are the same, right?"

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for find._**

Mole Knight, a couple of anthropologists, and a handful of linguists stared silently at the suspicious artwork on a newly-unearthed wall.

A large demonic creature, with green skin, horns, and a flowing black dress overlooked the rest of the scenery. Its large clawed hands were releasing large purple circles towards a mountain. Its sharp teeth were bared, and its jaw was unnaturally opened wide. Dark red painted the monster's lips and chin. Small figures, circles atop triangles with four sticks poking out, were running down the dangerous slopes of the mountain. Much of them were already left behind, lying haphazardly on random places. Most of the figures still up and moving appeared to hold rectangular objects, smaller figures, and well-drawn animals. The others were at the foot of the creature, holding long sticks, fighting larger stick men who defended the monster. The drawing was still dirtied by earth, but the image was clear.

"It looks like… _her."_ A linguist fidgeted. "I don't have to be a linguist to tell..."

"I don't know what to make of this." Mole Knight's shoulders drooped.

"Sire, we're in deep trouble." One of the anthropologists muttered.

"I know. Why are we still looking if I don't know?" He turned around and briskly walked away. "I have to fix this before that," he pointed at the ancient mural, "happens again."

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for forecast._**

Lightning suddenly flashed. Thunder roared shortly afterwards. The sound of wood and metal crashing on the floor all at once came next. A bloodcurdling shriek of anger from a certain impatient engineer filled the entire Clockwork Tower, causing Cogslotters to flinch, especially the one nearest to the workshop.

"Always, always, always, thunder and lightning!" Tinker Knight growled as he paced out of his workshop. "When will I ever have better working conditions?"

The Cogslotter near the engineer shrugged. "The Enchantress is to blame, right?"

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for foreshadowing._**

 _The yellow waves were willed too high by the umbrella-holding person. The small man, still determined as ever, started swimming away coolly. The water reached the one with the umbrella before he could react, washing him away in the seawater. He let out a blub and stuck his clawed hand up._

 _The largest men in the beach squinted at the waves, suddenly surprised that the speck of red in the sky and the yellow tint of the water were no longer there._

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for frog._**

"I'm so hungry..." Polar Knight murmured, clutching his aching belly.

Plague Knight quietly slipped a drink in the Stalwart's hands, only to receive it back with a snarl from the Norse warrior.

"I think we're going to die here... of starvation..." King Knight moaned. "Except for him," he pointed at Specter Knight, whose sadistic grin was widening as the clock ticked, "and maybe Plague Knight."

"We all die together, _oui?_ " Propeller Knight lied on his back on the dirty grass, stretching his arms out, his handsome face smeared with earth and sporting all but a smile. He closed his hazel eyes and sighed deeply.

"Why are you doing that? It's... unfashionable!" King Knight shrieked.

" _Mon ami,_ I'm about to die and the chances of getting lai-"

His words were cut short by something wet and squishy suddenly hopping on his chest. He opened his eyes and stared at the thing sitting on him. King Knight screamed louder and jumped backwards, falling on poor Plague Knight, who let out a squawk.

Propeller Knight glared at the thing for a short moment, licking his lips. His mouth gradually stretched into a wide grin, clean and pristine teeth glinting in the light.

"Ribbit." The frog croaked loudly.

The Frenchman started humming a little melody and singing a French song, his hands carefully grabbing the frog. He sat up, frog in hand, and grinned at it.

"Ribbit." The frog said, looking up quite fearlessly and ignorantly at the face of death. "Ribbit."

" _MES AMIS IT'S TIME FOR LUNCH!"_

 ** _._**

 ** _F is for fraudster._**

If there was a time King Knight wasn't dressed as the monarch of Pridemoor, it was a cold night sometime around the start of winter. He was dressed in dark navy garb, a hood and mask covering his face. His scepter was haphazardly wrapped in thick cloth stolen from someone's stash. He crept up to a guard, the last sentry standing between him and his destination. He latched himself to the wall, arms and legs outstretched, as he quietly went up to the unwitting knight. He suddenly dashed towards the now-surprised man, scepter up, and bashed his weapon at the head of his victim.

The sentry yelped quite loudly before the cloth-covered metal connected with the skull. King Knight smartly caught the ragdoll of a knight and silently pulled him into a nearby empty room. The decadent dandy emerged from it, desperately catching his breath as he proudly sauntered to the room he wanted to break into.

King Knight pushed the large door open as gently and as softly as he can. The room was full of boxes and small papers. An impressive pile of paper was in and overflowing from the box labeled 'Specter votes'. King Knight pushed Specter Knight's box away as carefully as he could, revealing a folded out-of-place yellow paper with the Order's names scribbled on it. He picked it up and read the notes on it. It was titled 'Dig the Vote', written in some kind of chickenscratch.

Specter Knight's name was clearly with the most number of votes as indicated by the ridiculous amount of marks beside his name and his intimidatingly towering ballot pile. King Knight actually gasped in shock at the fact that Specter Knight was the dark horse of his team. He glowered at the Apparition's mountainous pile, opting to leave it alone as any tampering with it would either cause the counters to freak out and-or cause the apparition to dismember him, revive him, and be mutilated again while being a mindless skeleton. He sauntered as far as he could from the spook's vote pile, his heart racing at probably-present undead evil eyes watching his every twitch.

The second in place was clearly Propeller Knight, followed by Polar or Plague Knight at third. He glanced over his own name and found that he was in the lower half of the race, with less than _half_ of the Frenchman's votes. He tore the paper apart, turned around, and moved his French rival's pile to a corner without flammables. He threw the torn ledger and many of Propeller Knight's votes to the corner and then fished out a box of matches from his pocket. He lit a match and carefully set them all on fire.

 ** _Up next: G is for German numbers._**

 _Translations and explanations:_

 _Venez à moi! – come to me!_

 _Oui Seigneur! – yes, our Lord!_

 _F is for flowers of antimony: Plague doctors had the bird masks filled with fragrant herbs to ward away miasma or diseased air. Antimony was considered a medicinal element by medieval alchemists and doctors. Yacht Club also did a lot of research for Shovel Knight, and Word of Jake Kaufman states that there's a lot of symbolism in the game. I wouldn't be surprised if I uncover more secrets._

 _F is for foreshadowing: who is the guy with the umbrella and who is the swimmer? Go back a little…_


	7. G is for German numbers

_Author's note: Has anyone looked at Specter's new playable sprite and teaser art and then felt both happiness and disappointment? I feel like the new look is FREAKING AWESOME, and at the same time I feel sad the entire front of his cloak disappeared._

 ** _._**

 ** _G is for German._**

"Wow," Plague Knight marveled at the luxurious deck of the Flying Machine, filled with Hoverhafts and non-flying personnel moving around and chattering in French, "are you all French?"

"Ahh… not all of us." Propeller Knight shrugged. "We have one German. Albrecht!"

"You're not allowed to suddenly disturb my vork!" The German Hoverhaft immediately complained, his heavy accent rivaling the Spin Controller's.

"Say something in German, Albrecht." Propeller Knight ordered, pronouncing the minion's name correctly, but with great difficulty with the 'r'.

" _Ich weiss nicht… ach! Du siehst nicht gut aus!_ _Du bist so hässlich!"_

"What did you say?"

The German only laughed mischievously and went back to work. Plague Knight tapped the dumbfounded Frenchman lightly.

"Why do you have a German?"

Propeller Knight spun around and laughed. "He's part of the French-German friendship exchange program! If my delegate is telling the truth, he is having a fun time! The Germans', though, seems to always be in the most negative of moods…"

 ** _._**

 ** _G is for German numbers._**

"Sixty-ten!" Propeller Knight grinned innocently, his teeth pristine and gleaming. "French!"

Polar Knight groaned and put his massive hand firmly on his forehead. Albrecht hung his head, leaning on his dear halberd and sighing deeply.

"Sixty-eleven, sixty-twelve…"

"This is why I dropped French class…" Mole Knight whispered to himself, grumpily clacking his claws on the table.

"Sixty-ten-seven!"

"Please, someone, maketh him stop!" King Knight screeched.

Albrecht perked up. His face brightened, and then blurted out, "One and twenty!"

The Frenchman grinned widely, stood up, and grabbed one of the handles on his helmet. He was lifted off the floor with a great wind, and he landed just before his subordinate. "Four twenties! _Quatre vingt dix_! Four-twenty-ten!"

"Four twenties? Ridiculous! Expecting everyvon to know multiplication at birzh!" Albrecht bantered back.

"Ridiculous?" He gasped, mocking the German. "You say your numbers out of order!"

"At least zhey are systematic! Ones place first before the tens! Like _fünfundfünfzig_!"

"And you write them in one word! Pah!"

"Aha!" The Hoverhaft thrust his jaw out, stabbing his superior with his index finger. "Can you take zhis?"

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing." Plague Knight admitted loudly, going behind Mole Knight, who patted his shoulder.

"Polar Knight is doing nothing." Mole Knight whispered, pointing to the facepalming Norse shoveler. "It's best we follow his example and bury our faces into our claws."

Albrecht smiled in confidence as he said his next word. " _Siebenhundertsiebenundsiebzigtausendsiebenhundertsiebenundsiebzig_!"

 ** _._**

 ** _G is for getting drunk._**

"Servant."

The maiden gasped and looked wide-eyed at her master in surprise. "Y-yes?" _And when did you change your cloak,_ she didn't add.

Specter Knight held out the large glass of liquor he had found earlier that day, miraculously still full despite the chaotic ten-man brawl (which he wasn't truly involved in until Treasure Knight had the wonderful idea of acquiring a silver spear and stabbing it through where his heart was) and the showdown with the Enchantress. "I want you to drink this."

She looked at the mysterious liquid, shimmering in the low light, and took the glass hesitantly. "It… doesn't smell nice-"

"Drink it." He sternly ordered. "And tell me how it feels over time."

The maiden looked at the glass with disbelief and just complied, sipping the liquor slowly and surely. The liquid burned her throat, scorching it so much she almost choked, but noted the delicious aftertaste.

"Master, it tastes like… blood, I think. It's blood with a liberal amount of ground chili pepper."

The apparition raised his brows. "Blood? Have you tasted true-"

She drank more of it. "Yes, definitely blood. And…" she stiffened, a wide smile on her face. He cautiously floated a bit backwards, "it tastes wonderful. Where did you get it?"

He quietly watched her gulp down the rest of the drink, with a wild expression. Her eyes were wide and began to turn red, and her smile was unsettlingly wide and crazed. He prepared himself. The liquor worked very fast and strong, so that meant everyone else was drunk by the time the first liquid archer dropped from the ceiling.

That left with being stuck to deal with his drunken personal helper. Experiment success. Ghosts _do_ get drunk by the liquid. He sighed, relieved he didn't drink that chili-blood mix.

"Master… where'd you get it…?" She swayed towards him, languidly letting her hands up his helmet. "You should… drink that as well…"

"No." He answered immediately. He shoved her off of him and touched her forehead with a finger. At a touch she let out a small moan, and fell to the ground. He picked her up and floated towards her quarters. She was already on the verge of passing out. She stuck her index finger up and swirled it around in the air.

"Look… pretty butterflies…"

"There are no butterflies here." Specter Knight muttered.

"Flowers… one of them is smiling. It says 'howdy'!" She gasped. "I haven't seen talking flowers… do flowers have souls too and go to an afterlife? La… la la… la… la la la la…"

The apparition glared down at his singing assistant and grimaced. Specter Knight floated to the bedside and negligently plopped his humming aide down. She giggled and curled on the bed, hugging her pillow and burying her face in it, declaring all intentions of loving it to the end of time. He grimaced again and shook his head. He sat on the floor, waiting for her to pass out. He pulled his helmet's visor up to have the best hand-to-forehead contact possible, not knowing whether he would regret or congratulate himself on the success of his little experiment.

Prior to that, all of his 'experiments' ended up in victory highs. That day, the record was broken, and he was getting one hell of a headache and not a high, especially because of her drunken conversation with an imaginary talking flower.

 ** _._**

 ** _G is for guards._**

The skeleton languidly turned its decaying head to its other fellow guards, grasping its sword clumsily. It let out a small grunt.

" _What… are we… protecting again…?"_ It vocalized in its undecipherable language. The others shrugged.

" _Protect… the chest… at all costs…"_ The second, whose left foot was clubbed, answered, pointing to the chest behind them.

" _It's what… the master… had decreed before…"_ The third grumpily added, brandishing its rusty sword. " _We cannot complain… or else… we do not want… what he can do… to us…"_

" _The chest… we must guard…"_ The second repeated.

" _Guard… the chest… or be punished…"_ The third warned. " _It's… important… to the master…"_

" _No complaints…"_ The first groaned, turning to the ladder leading to their room. " _Hear… something…?"_

Muffled _booms_ echoed throughout the room, followed by a very quick flash of black and green. The object disappeared in a thick cloud of green and yellow, jumping up high above the three, bombs ready in its left hand. All three sentries raised their blades.

" _Protect…"_

" _The chest…"_

" _At all costs…"_

 _Woosh._ The small bomb zoomed across the room and hit the second skeleton on the head. The gourd-shaped glass exploded into a beautiful pink and purple inferno, engulfing the poor skeleton in its extremely dangerous flames, not even letting it shout as it disintegrated. Bone and armor turned into ash, leaving only its immobile and dead head on the ground.

" _Protect…"_

" _The chest…"_

" _At all costs…"_

 _Slam._ The enemy's staff hit the first guard on its shoulder, followed by a quick but not so powerful punch to the jaw. Its head detached from its body, and the thing pushed its still sapient body to the damned soul water below. The head screeched loudly as the body turned into bubbles. A pink bomb was thrown at it and it was soon turned to gray dust.

" _Protect…"_

 _Fwoom._ Two bombs lobbed upwards to the third guard. Green fire burst out of it, seemingly homing on the skeleton. It let out an unholy screech as two flames sliced through its leg and chest, falling to the ground. It willed its body to fight back at the approaching living _being_. Its skeletal hand clutched its rusty sword as the _thing_ looked down at it with insane eyes. It just dropped a pink bomb and watched it crumble to ash and dust in the purple fire.

Plague Knight hopped away from the remains of the skeletons. He tried pushing the chest's lid up, to no avail. Snarling, he summoned a black-powder bomb and slammed it on the lock. The lock mechanism exploded into tiny pieces, along with part of the lid. He opened the chest with a shrug and peeped inside.

A small locket, blue and gold, rested on top of a very comfortable-looking red cushion and under a small but adorable cloth, twinkled. Plague Knight grabbed it carelessly and burst away, holding the locket by its chain and letting it dangle.

He didn't know that a certain knight would one day visit the chest, only to find the guards he had placed to defend it obliterated. The knight would then panic at the sight of ashes in place of the sentries and the lid of the chest damaged and opened. He would look at the inside of the chest and frantically look for the locket that had once rested comfortably with the red cushion he had made years before and a blanket he had crocheted just the last week. He would lift the cushion up and put it out, only to find no gold and blue locket in the chest. He would have the crocheted blanket in his clenched fist and bang it on the lid of the chest. He would slice the chest in half, and let out an anguished cry to the heavens.

 ** _._**

 ** _G is for garbage._**

"What's going on in your dig?" King Knight asked the sleepy archaeologist. Mole Knight immediately perked up.

"We found another of the Lost City's garbage dumps!"

King Knight made a disgusted expression.

"We found out that previous inhabitants of the Lost City already had horse toys much like our generation's children's toys…" He rambled on.

 ** _._**

 ** _G is for gift._**

The child wept, sobbing into his hand. His other hand had a small girl's doll, its head detached. Whenever he looked at the severed head, its red eyes and lips still smiling back at him, he would bawl out louder.

Tinker Knight happened to pass by, and approached the crying child. He put his rough hand on the kid's shoulder and gently smiled.

"What's wrong, little kid?" He kindly asked.

"My sister's doll…" He sniffed and showed him the separated doll. "A bad knight took it and tore the head off!"

"Who's the bad knight?"

"Someone in gold, with a crown on his head!"

Tinker Knight fumed. _King Knight._

"My sister is crying back at home and I can't fix this!"

Tinker Knight took the doll and examined it closely. The tiny face smiled at him eerily, seemingly ignoring the fact that its head was ripped away from its body. He looked at the kid at the eye and spoke softly. "Don't worry. I'll fix this for you. Meanwhile… give this to you sister."

He fished out a small box from his pocket. It was a metal box, painted blue with a black button on the top. He nonchalantly tore away a piece of paper stuck to it, the words 'emergency child calming device' written on it.

"Have your sister press this button, alright? It's a surprise, so don't do anything yet!"

The child gasped and grinned. "Thank you, mister knight!"

He zoomed away, running down the cobblestone path as fast as he could, calling a girl's name. Tinker Knight pocketed the doll and took out his wrench.

/later/

"Sister! Look at this! Just press this button! Averynicemanonthecobbleroadwithaweirdmaskandawrenchgavethistomeandtoldmetogiveittoyou-"

The small girl smiled widely and carefully took the box. She happily jammed her tiny finger on the button and watched the box twitch and shake in her hands. The box quickly unfolded itself, showing gears and clockwork turning around and around inside. A smaller box, a very tiny ball in a maze-like structure emerged from the gears. The small girl frowned at it and shook the box.

The ball rolled around, passing through the paths. Music suddenly played from inside the box as she shook it, like a small music box. The girl smiled and listened to the cheery music box.

/that afternoon/

"You made two children cry under my watch." Tinker Knight tightened his grip on his wrench. He fished the torn doll out of his pocket and shoved it on the gilded goob's face.

"So?" King Knight carelessly replied.

Tinker Knight brandished his wrench and ran up to King Knight, hitting the latter square in the head. "You're not going to make the children cry anytime, or gods help you."

 ** _._**

 ** _G is for gorgeous._**

The Frenchman cracked his hazel eyes open. His entire world spun and warped as he tried looking around. He groaned, recalling not why exactly his head pounded away at his brain with every beat of his heart. He couldn't remember anything after drinking a potion given to him by a Plague Minion that was apparently the wrong vial.

Plague Knight would have a blast of his time sternly reminding everyone why labels are crucial in alchemy. Propeller Knight groaned, vowing never to drink anything Plague Knight did not give. He would trust a deranged alchemist than a mislabeling champion.

Propeller Knight pushed himself up, moaning. The hammer striking his head was hitting him more powerfully, and he teared up. He plopped back on the bed, tears rolling down in pain. He welcomed the cold air soothing his naked torso, spreading his arms out.

"Don't move, _monsieur._ " A voice called out to him. He opened his eyes with a sob and looked at his German subordinate. Albrecht was still scowling, but he seemed less negative in Propeller Knight's blurred vision. He was waving a long silver stick with a small flame in its thick end around him, its purple and green smoke kept in motion by the propeller attached to the Hoverhaft's back.

"Awake now?" A female voice joined in, followed shortly by a door being closed. Propeller Knight instantly turned his head to the woman and grinned.

" _Ja, Mona."_ Albrecht replied, diligently waving the flaming stick around. "I haff been thinking, why not just collect ze smoke and blow it at his face?"

"Medicine doesn't work that way." Mona said, walking to the Frenchman's side and sitting by him. "I'd also be more comfortable if he wasn't…"

"Hnn?" The Hoverhaft raised his brow. Mona pointed to Propeller Knight's naked upper body with a very awkward look. "Oh."

Mona politely pushed Propeller Knight's arms back to his sides and pulled the blanket up to his neck. "How are you feeling?"

Propeller Knight's teeth gleamed audibly. "Lovely, _mademoiselle._ "

Mona just chuckled. The door opened again, and was slammed shut angrily. Her eyes darted to the person by the door and back to Propeller Knight with a mischievous smile.

"You're very beautiful today, Mona." He rambled on. "Your hair shimmers like the night sky. Your eyes gleam like stars, and your smile brightens up my day."

"You're charming."

"And you're a gorgeous woman."

Mona giggled, and Propeller Knight couldn't help but score. Albrecht was frozen on his spot, his eyes twitching and reddening. He watched the newcomer march to the bedside angrily, unable to move in fear for his life and his superior's life.

In Propeller Knight's bleary world, the woman he was wooing was giggling and blushing, and a small bird appeared by him. He looked at the green and black bird and _awwed._

"You are very cute and tiny, little bird… what's your name?" He reached up to pat the bird's head, smiling wide. Its hollow and lifeless eyes just stared at him as he ruffled the bird's fabric-like feathers. Mona was hooting and crying from loud laughter, clutching her stomach. Propeller Knight narrowed his eyes in doubt. The cackling from Mona split his world. Everything had felt like he was under water, with distorted sounds and vision, but her laugh was starting to become clearer and clearer. He squinted at the bird he was fondly ruffling and made out its appearance.

Green face and beak, black eyes. Black feathers that felt much like cloth at the back half of the head extending downwards.

 _Merde._

No wings. The feathers weren't actually feathers. The beak was a polished mask.

 _Putain de merde._

Suddenly, the fog cleared.

Plague Knight stood there, the fiery eyes under his mask barely visible.

 ** _Up next: H is for hangover._**

 _Translations for the not so obvious ones (I see someone French is reading this so I beg you help me we'll be good friends)_

 _Ich weiss nicht… ach! Du siehst nicht gut aus! Du bist so hässlich! - I don't know... ah! You don't look good! You're so ugly!_

 _Siebenhundertsiebenundsiebzigtausendsiebenhundertsiebenundsiebzig - Seven hundred seventy-seven thousand seven hundred seventy-seven_


	8. H is for hat

_ProwlerPercy and PipoRabbit: Yes, she was hallucinating about Flowey! I see no reason for a phantom's drunken trip to not feature a talking flower. The thought just occurred to me._

 _Longer chapter for your entertainment for I, the great Gaming Knight of the mighty Order of Dying College Students, have a lot of papers to do. May my trusty pen write valiant words, my worthy laptop type courageous essays, and my strong bag protect requirements. May my brain remain functional in the deepest of nights, my eyes remain steadfast in their reading journeys, my back endure the pain of sitting up. Also, may I survive through paperwork watching Axis Powers Hetalia and fangirling over France, because he's just that cute._

 _H is for Hetalia…?_

 ** _._**

 ** _H is for handsome._**

"…have you seen him? He's handsome!" Mary Sweets gushed to a confused Shovel Knight. The cerulean warrior could only stare at her, almost about to butt in her personal sphere. Shield Knight gawked at the lady, her hurt arm forgotten. She looked back at her time as the Enchantress, and there was _no way in hell Specter Knight appeared handsome._ To be fair, he had _never_ removed his helmet nor even put his hood down. She pinched her chin briefly. Maybe the spook had a nice-looking face under that mask. _That's so bad_ , she thought, _he could or might have been his time's Propeller Knight… the problem with many handsome people is that they're often aloof…_

 ** _._**

 ** _H is for human._**

"Sire, I believe excavation here is getting more and more unsettling." An old anthropologist murmured. Mole Knight nodded his head.

"Yes, it appears everything is going worse." Mole Knight crossed his arms, looking down at the horrifying sight unearthed just under the terrible mural. The archaeologist could count at least sixteen hands in the bone pile, all detached from the arms. The arms were also ripped off the shoulder joints, the radius and ulna of some crushed. There were eight skulls were smashed and eight spinal columns broken. The pelvises and legs were left mostly alone. Some femurs were crushed. All of the victims were still clad in various armors and clothing, the fabrics still stained deep red, almost black. Many types of weapons were thrown atop their mutilated remains; sabers, spears, blunt and spiked maces, axes, and quarterstaffs. A clay tablet that had been there was removed by Mole Knight himself.

"It's jarring. I myself have seen excavations of Neanderthal mass graves. The casualties were over twenty people, many of them children." The old anthropologist pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is an act of war, right?"

"The entire sociology department thinks so. Do you think these people were alive when they got mutilated?"

"The femurs are broken." He glanced at the knight, brow raised. "Do you know how painful it is to have a blunt force crush your femur?"

Mole Knight grimaced, and then turned to the experts inspecting the clay tablets. "And the clay tablet?"

"So far we have translated the first portion." One of them replied. "It most likely says 'eight knights punished'..."

The old man removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with his shirt's hem. "Eight knights, and we're looking at the Enchantress here," he gestured to the ominous drawing on the wall, the bloody demon looming over the Lost City, "aren't we?"

 ** _._**

 ** _H is for hand._**

" _Father!" The blond-haired child called out, sweetly standing before her father. He was large and scary, his short beard and eyes shrouded in the shadows of his helmet enough to terrify his opponents. He put his large snow shovel down on a corner by the main door and picked his daughter up, throwing her up in the air and catching her. A small smile appeared on his face as his daughter giggled in the air._

" _What is it, my child?" He sweetly embraced his young daughter and let her sit comfortably on his arm. She grinned up at him._

" _Hand!" She thrust out her small hand to him and pointed to his large hand. He put his palm against hers, and she laughed. Her entire hand was just as large as his thumb. "I have little hands!"_

" _Tiny hands." He said. She smiled, and then jumped off him. He winced and squeezed his eyes shut as his fearless daughter jumped off a height more than twice hers. She sprinted to his standing snow shovel, and held on its shaft. She pulled, and ended up with her butt on the floor._

 _The Stalwart Shoveler crouched and picked her back up, walking out of the house. "That shovel is too big for you. Let me give you something I think is better for you."_

" _Can I be a knight like you?" She asked._

" _Of course, my daughter." He smiled wider and walked to a shed behind the house._

" _Can I use a shovel like you?"_

" _If you want."_

" _What's the French word for water?"_

 _He paused, his mouth opening a bit. "I don't know."_

" _You know everything, right?"_

" _Not everything. I don't know French for water."_

" _If I grow up to be a knight, what should I do?"_

" _Fight bad men. That's what all knights should do."_

" _Can I throw snowballs at them too?"_

" _Maybe. You can."_

" _How big should my snowballs be?"_

" _As big as you want."_

" _How do you make the biggest snowballs?"_

" _I'll teach you when you grow up."_

" _What are you going to give me, Father?"_

 _He put his daughter down and opened the shed's door. He motioned for her to stay, and then entered. She pouted. A few moments later, he emerged with a small toy shield, made of wood, painted red, and very dusty. He blew the dust off and knelt before his daughter._

" _Try it on. It fits your hand."_

 _She gasped and beamed, putting her entire arm out in front of her. He slid the strap of the toy to her wrist._

" _Wave it around."_

 _She waved it around and started to giggle. "My friends would be so jealous of me!"_

 ** _._**

 ** _H is for hat._**

"Fortunately, no. He only does zhat to zhe ladies. "Albrecht nonchalantly told Shovel Knight. The latter shrugged.

"Don't you have suspicions?"

"None of us do, Herr Shovel. He has always been zhat vay since we first met. Anyvay, ve should be looking for hats to use for ze celebration party tomorrow-"

"What are you two talking about?" A middle-aged man, dressed in a black longcoat with a brown collar, walked over to the two. He brandished his cane around and bowed to them flamboyantly. "I heard the word 'hat'."

"Mister Hat." Shovel Knight faced the haberdasher and extended his hand. "We meet again."

"Shovel Knight!" Mister Hat shook his hand, somehow tearing his eyes away from his shiny blue horned helmet. "It's good to see you on this wonderful day!" The hat man looked at Albrecht and gaped at his shimmering gold and blue helmet.

"Good day. My name is Albrecht. My superior, Propeller Knight, wishes to meet you on zhis day." Albrecht held out his right hand and shook Hat's. "He vill come soon, maybe vizhin ze hour."

"I heard about Propeller Knight." Mister Hat ripped his gaze away from Albrecht's _majestic_ blue and gold hat. "I heard he has quite the taste in fashion!"

"He vants to see your products. He has heard about your collection, and is curious."

"Magnificent!" Mister Hat exclaimed. "Someone else is interested in hats!"

"Not only ze hats, but also your luxurious items."

The haberdasher made a dismissive gesture. "Everyone comes here for the luxury jewelry and clothes, but if anyone comes for the hats, I will be glad!" He danced around and went to the vast collection of fine hats at the back of the store and sang. "Hats! My greatest passion in the world! Hats!"

 ** _._**

 ** _H is for helmet._**

"You're lucky he didn't attack you for that helmet, Albrecht." Shovel Knight said. "He loves hats, and 'hat', in his mind, is an umbrella term for any headgear."

"I can see _."_

The two looked outside as a soft noise zoomed by the shop's windows. They followed a green and gold flying man and watched him land gracefully in front of the shop entrance.

The Hoverhaft sighed, shook his head, and flew to his superior. "Sire, we have interacted vizh Mister Hat. He is inside the shop."

Propeller Knight grinned, his teeth glinting. "Well, well, let us get inside and see!"

The Frenchman happily walked into the fancy shop. Upon entering, he was greeted with the loveliest of dresses, the most fancy of garb, the most elegant of jewels, the shiniest of shoes, the most beautiful of swords, and the finest of hats. He turned to Shovel Knight, who was standing idly by the shoe section, and laughed merrily.

"Shovel Knight, you have great taste in fashion!" He praised as he went by the first hat aisle and admired an orange feathered hat. He stroked the feather, enjoying its soft texture.

"I zhink he stumbled upon zhis by accident." Albrecht muttered.

"Yes, in fact, I did." Shovel Knight said as a matter of fact. "A fancy shop in the Armor Outpost is one of the last things I would expect. I also did not expect a hat-obsessed man before."

"Did someone say 'hat'?" Mister Hat called out from the back of the shop and glided to the entrance. Attracted by the power of the h-word, he emerged from his hat paradise. "Hat customer? Hat?"

"You must be Mister Hat." Propeller Knight smiled, taking the lovely orange hat and examining it. "You have a very fine collection. I like all of these hats. Where did you get these? Exotic!"

"Of course!" He boasted, closing his eyes and spinning to face Propeller Knight and bow. "I am not called Mister Ha-"

The salesman opened his eyes, and immediately, he felt Cupid's arrow hit his heart.

Propeller Knight, to him, was bathed in sparkles, especially the orange hat, which gained an ethereal glow. Mister Hat let out a delighted groan.

"Dear gods, must zhis happen right now?" Albrecht bemoaned. "I should haff expected ze hat man to swoon…"

Shovel Knight tapped the furious German's shoulder lightly. "No. That's not it. Watch this to the end."

The Hoverhaft growled and looked awkwardly at the two. Propeller Knight's smile started to falter when he noticed Mister Hat inching closer to him and raising his hands up to the level of his face.

"Albrecht…?" Propeller Knight stepped to the side, his hand reaching into his pouch for his dagger. He carefully placed the orange hat back on its rack, watching Mister Hat stalk him.

"Shovel Knight says I should vatch. I'm sure nozhing bad vill happen since he is here."

" _Merde."_

"Propeller Knight!" Mister Hat exclaimed. "I cannot remove mine eyes from you!"

" _Mes dieux._ "

"You…" Mister Hat's mouth opened as he stared more and more at Propeller Knight, "have a magnificent helmet, so lovely! So lovely!"

Shovel Knight snickered as Albrecht grimaced.

" _Quoi?_ " Propeller Knight gawked, flinching when Mister Hat grabbed one of the helmet's handles and made the propeller blades spin slowly. His eyes darted from the hand delightfully squeezing the handle to the face of the foppish hat dandy, and then his brows furrowed.

"Your elegant hat! A true masterpiece of modern engineering! You can fly with this! I must have it!"

"But I cannot be Propeller Knight without my Heli-Helmet. It's also a helmet, which is different from hats."

Mister Hat let go of the handles, flashed a malicious smile, and reached for the hidden longsword under his coat. "Yes, about that problem… heh heh!"

 ** _._**

 ** _H is for hood._**

Upon seeing Phantom Striker stand outside of the fancy shop like he had lived in it for all his life and exude a grinning type of aura, Plague Knight knew there was something very, _very_ wrong happening inside the establishment.

"Mona, I think it's best for you to stay with the minions out here." Plague Knight muttered. "Reize, love potion matters later."

"Okay!" The warrior-in-training saluted.

"Well… okay then." Mona fondly patted the masked alchemist's head before heading to the cluster of minions happily walking around. Plague Knight watched her until she and Reize had joined a sizeable group composed of five Plague Minions and a hulking Baz, and then bomb bursted to the fancy shop's entrance. When he landed by the blood knight, he heard a desperate voice cry out.

" _Hilf mir!"_ A Hoverhaft screeched. Plague Knight peeked inside and found Propeller Knight flying around frantically as Mister Hat hungrily followed. Shovel Knight was panting, his hands on his knees as he tried to follow the three. The Hoverhaft was deflecting the cups and saucers launched at his captain with his halberd, and the said captain flew out of the fancy shop as a last escape attempt.

"Woah." The scientist ducked as Propeller Knight zoomed past him, closely followed by the hysterical German. Mister Hat chased after them, still throwing his teacups at them. Plague Knight straightened his posture and glanced over at Phantom Striker, who was only watching.

"Heh heh… you're not going to help, are you?"

Phantom Striker shook his head. The little alchemist groaned.

"We have to… get Mister Hat's… attention… away from the helmet…" Shovel Knight panted, running out of the building and almost collapsed by the doorway. "I haven't… felt this exhausted… in a long time…"

"Attention? Hee hee! I know just the right way!" Plague Knight fixed his hood. "I know how to deal with this. Baz! Reize! Heh heh, help me out!"

"Yes sir teacher!" Baz replied, running out of the group.

"I'm coming too!" Reize said, following. "What are we gonna do- oh boy, Hat."

"Haaaaat!" Baz hollered.

"He can't hear you." Phantom Striker muttered.

"Hey, old man!" Plague Knight taunted. "You do hoods? I need a blast-proof purple velvet hood with white doves sewn on it by tomorrow night! Remember! HOODS! Tomorrow night, before the grand ball!"

Mister Hat whipped his head around and stopped chasing the two flying men at the sound of 'hoods'. He gripped his sword tighter and gritted his teeth. "Hoods. Hoods! No flair! No majesty!"

"You two know what to do, hee hee." Plague Knight giggled. "Oh, this is so much fun."

"Hoods! Hoods are a waste of fine cloth!" Mister Hat dashed to Plague Knight's direction, only for Reize to lunge himself at him. The boy warrior tackled the old man, but his weight wasn't enough to pin him down. Baz ran up to them and cannonballed on top of the two. Mister Hat, buried under the combined weight of Baz and Reize, could only raise his twitching hands up to the _heretic hood lover_ in anger.

"Have at you!" Mister Hat exclaimed.

"I can't breathe…" Reize choked out.

 ** _._**

 ** _H is for hair._**

" _I dunno, Plaguey, I find it hard to resist his dashing, windswept look."_

" _Petit_!" Propeller Knight cheerfully said, taking Plague Knight by surprise. He almost forgot that the Frenchman was dressed in a suit and bow tie for once and that he was in his first date. "You have been sipping that drink for a long time and you have not moved! The date cannot flow properly with you staring off into the oblivion!"

"Yeah, Plaguey," Mona piped up, "you're frozen there. Something wrong?"

"N-nothing… I just remembered when you said flyboy was dashing and windswept, hee."

Mona cackled. "Oh, Plaguey, you remember the most peculiar of memories!"

"If I may intrude," their French waiter sauntered towards the table, gracefully balancing the platter on his hand, "what is the concern?"

"He remembers when I called you dashing and windswept! Look how flustered he is. So cute!"

Plague Knight turned magenta under his mask. "W-what! _You're_ ruining this date!"

Propeller Knight put down the platter politely on the table, unhooked his helmet from the straps on his neck, and let his flowing brown hair resplendently fly in the wind. He flashed a toothy grin and enjoyed the wind blowing at his face, arms akimbo.

"See? Windswept." Mona teased.

Plague Knight pouted.

"I can see you pouting there…"

The little alchemist abruptly hopped off his chair and ran up to Propeller Knight's left side. "I'm not about to lose to you, Frenchie."

"Lesson one, my pupil!" Propeller Knight gleefully lectured, "always face the direction where the wind blows!"

Plague Knight undid the ties fixing his hood to his chin hastily. "Who doesn't know that rule?"

As Plague Knight let his hood down to let his long black hair out, Propeller Knight raised a brow and faced his left to look concernedly at the tiny bird person. Coincidentally, the wind followed the Frenchman's face and blew relative to him. As a result, Plague Knight's long hair flew to the right, several locks sweeping across his face. He squawked and hurriedly combed his hair away from his beak. Propeller Knight's other brow raised, and he looked to their back, to the giggling Mona. The wind followed him yet again, and Plague Knight's hair went towards his mask.

"Stop using your wind powers!" The tiny bird-faced alchemist screeched.

 ** _._**

 ** _H is for hangover._**

/somewhere in the Stranded Ship/

"Hm." Polar Knight wondered aloud as he stared into the white snowy landscape and the lights that danced in the sky. He felt nothing, not even an axe cleaving through his head. "How is everyone doing…? What was that liquid made of?"

/campfire/

"Yacht gods, Shield Knight, I have a headache!" Shovel Knight complained loudly.

"Do you remember anything before the Remnant of Fate?" The tall girl raised her head. "Do you remember the nine-man fistfight on the dinner table? Maybe someone from the Order hit your head too hard while you lot were drunk as nuts."

The blue knight gasped. "Fistfight? No! Ow… my head, dammit."

/Pridemoor throne room/

King Knight, stripped of crown and fief, scrubbed slowly on a single spot on the floor. He knew everyone else was laughing at him as he cleaned. His fingers were shaky, and his sight was unfocused.

A pike was stabbed powerfully into his brain. He almost writhed in his spot.

"Argh!"

He threw the cleaning cloth to the floor and raised his fist in the air. "Curse you, Shovel Knight! Curse this headache as well! I can't scrub the floor with this miserable pain!"

/Clockwork Tower, quiet room/

Mole Knight and Tinker Knight lay face down on their respective couches, both of them snoring. A Cogslotter diligently maintained an odd device standing between the two couches. He pushed a finger on a red button, and two bags of ice rolled out of their respective conveyor belts. They slowly went from their output slot and then rested nicely on the heads of the two sleeping knights. Both sighed in chorus, and they went deeper to sleep. Tinker Knight curled up into a very tight ball and smiled in his sleep.

"Hey." A gear wizzem materialized beside the Cogslotter. "What's up?"

"Here, pushing buttons."

"Gee." The wizard turned to the passed out knights. "The Order of No Alcohol Tolerance."

"I know. Boss came here completely nuts, did you know?" He shrugged. "Well, both of them nuts as that crazy alchemist."

The wizzem lifted his hat up, revealing dumbfounded eyes.

"Last night was the night I learned Mole Knight has a beautiful voice and boss has no singing talent." He chuckled. "Drunken songs. Always the best. The lyrics were along the lines of 'now we are here, in this high tower, where things slice you apart, and missiles fire you'. No kidding. Missiles fire you. They lived in an inverted world, I suppose."

"Hammered badly." He waved his hand. "Good luck. Get the buckets ready."

/in an unknown place in a graveyard/

"Hnngg…" The phantom girl rubbed her eyes and yawned. Her entire body spasmed and ached, her throat felt dry, and her skin was not pale, but _blue._ She couldn't help but moan and bury herself in blankets and pillows. "Owww… I can't think…"

"How does it feel like, servant?" Specter Knight dryly asked. His arms were crossed, and his weapon leaned against the wall. He floated closer to the bed and glanced down at the curled up soul underneath the pillow mountain without grimacing. "Describe your discomfort."

"I feel like being killed again, master… but everything felt wonderful last night." The assistant groaned, peeking up at him. "What happened?"

The apparition made a growling noise and looked away. "First, you said it tasted like blood."

"It did…"

"Second, it took effect almost immediately after you consumed all of it." He dropped his shoulders and uncrossed his arms. "Do I have to tell you what exactly happened last night?"

She cowered under the pillows and curled up in a tighter ball, fearing his next sentence.

"Oh gods…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I apologize, sir… I didn't mean for that to happen…"

He turned around, lifted his visor up and placed his palm back on his head, shaking his head. "You then saw butterflies fluttering about here, married a pillow, and communed with talking flowers."

"Talking flowers?" She raised a brow.

"You had a very loud and senseless conversation with an imaginary talking flower, and you said things about memory." He faced her again, letting her see his tired eyes. He smiled. "I thank you for participating in this little experiment of mine. It was _certainly_ enlightening. I only have one question left."

She poked her head out of the mountain of bed-related objects. "Yes?"

"You also told me I should drink that blood drink in a disturbingly _seductive_ manner." He shivered, recalling the feeling of her hands sliding up to his visor. "You will be honest with me."

"…y-yes?"

"Is there something I should know about?"

She bit her lip and looked up thoughtfully. He watched her carefully, noting her every twitch and color change.

"I will not harm you for anything you say, servant."

She beamed immediately, smiling and blushing a bit. "Can I get more of that blood and chili, please?"

He stared at her stupidly, and then spun around after a long moment. He floated out and away from the room, vowing not to talk with the girl for the rest of the day.

There was a small potion game to play with the bored Mona girl, anyway.

/Iron Whale/

To Treasure Knight, every movement gave him a dizzy feeling. He remained slumped in his corner of the room, softly weeping for his rapidly draining gold. He closed his eyes to shield himself from the horrible light, and froze in his position to stop the nauseous feeling.

"Nice place you have here, goldie!" Plague Knight cackled. "Here's a gift for you!"

He cracked one eye open and saw a blue and white object come to him. He frowned at the thing. _Not even something gold, that filthy bastard chemist scientist book-loving coward! No ounce of dignity or even respect-_

 _Waaiiiit a fucking moment that's-_

"Frrk!"

The Bait Bomb let out a blinding flash of light as it detonated.

"RRR MRR FRRKING GRRDS I HRRTE YOU, YOU FREEK." Treasure Knight colorfully shouted at the cackling Plague Knight.

/Potionarium main lounge/

"Plague Knight? You summoned me?" Propeller Knight walked in the Potionarium despite the confused gaggle of minions chasing him, his Heli-Helmet off. His eyes were unfocused, and the omnipresent grin no longer omnipresent. He walked slowly, as firm as he can with each step. He felt his arms go numb, like his pinky and ring fingers were nonexistent.

The little alchemist sheepishly excused himself from Mona and hopped over to the Frenchman. "Propeller Knight. Good, hee! Mona and I were just about to ask – are you alright?"

Propeller Knight waved his hand. "Nothing out of the ordinary, _mon ami._ "

Plague Knight scoffed and glared at him.

"Alright. I feel very nauseous today." He admitted softly. "That drink…"

"Before I tell you what we need, you… have to feel better." The scientist blinked and led Propeller Knight to a comfortable chair. He picked the minion he had ordered weeks ago to just keep walking around the place and called him. "You! Get the violet healing potion, third shelf! Give it to this airhead!"

"Right!" The minion saluted as he hurriedly ran to the healing potion shelf.

Plague Knight turned back to the nauseous Frenchman. "That will be here in no time."

" _Merci_." He forced a smile and let Plague Knight go.

So, the minion arrived at the potions room in a minute.

However, there was a slight problem with the healing potion shelf.

The minion gasped.

Everything in the healing potion shelf was colored violet.

The fat minion shrugged and took a random potion off the third desk. He walked to the Frenchman, nervously offered the potion. Propeller Knight took the bottle, unscrewed its cap, and sipped in the violet liquid. His hazel eyes suddenly opened wide, and then he coughed violently. He clutched his chest and wheezed, his other hand clawing at nothing as he tried to suck in air. He twitched and convulsed, falling to the floor face down.

"Waaaah! Boss is going to kill me!"

 ** _Up next: I is for insurgency._**

 _Translations:_

 _Hilf mir – Help me (German)_

 _Water – eau (English)_


	9. I is for insurgency

_To Pipo the Rabbit: It's part of my headcanon on what could happen when Mole Knight got his own campaign. I also happen to be in an anthropology course, so yeah. I'm thinking classic "archaeology" featuring Indiana Jones and Lara Croft, but with REAL anthropology! :D_

 _To the guest who knows German: I'm formally only at A1,2 level in my knowledge of German, far away from a desirable amount of fluency. I just started formal education on the language last semester. Thank you for confirming my translations and for the comment! It means a lot to me!_

 _To Spiked Dragon: I almost published this chapter when I saw your suggestions! I can do 'salute' and 'underwear', however I would not include the 'stealing clothes/underwear' part, especially with Shield Knight. That's sexual harassment and I don't want to include any of that sort here. I can deal with wanton murder (just so you wait, there's someone in here with a 500+ body count), but not that. I guess I'll have to rework it, like salute being Shovel and Black's first engagement with Shovelry! I have no idea what to do with underwear, though. I appreciate your suggestions!_

 _Apologies for the late update. I still have tons of schoolwork to do, most of them have to be restarted due to a fire just over a week ago. The next letters may be affected, but I_ will _finish this. If you have any things to say to me, leave a review, or send a PM my way. Someone PMed if this is in a linear timeline, to which I say nah this ain't linear. I have events jumbled around, but I guess you could piece together the plots of each arc anyway._

 ** _._**

 ** _I is for ice._**

"Mona, I just bumped my head against the drawer." Plague Knight protested as he was forced down on a chair. His mask was off, and his hood pulled back. As if he had any power to fight back – after all, the poison he had recklessly breathed in still tainted his lungs and blood, and he was at a ridiculously close range with death. Death could just move a finger and he'd be dead, and that's how close to death he was. "Hee, it's just a little thing, nothing more."

"I was worried. You can jump down my height and you'd die." She scolded him, gently placing a small bag full of ice cubes on his head. "I told you to call for me when you wanted to stand up!"

"But Mona-"

"No buts, Plague Knight!"

 ** _._**

 ** _I is for influence._**

" _Hey, look at this!" A little dwarf of a kid laughed maniacally, holding his toy shovel and shoveling the snow into it, then flinging the loose poff of snow to his front. It landed pathetically on the foot of the Stalwart, who only chuckled at the attempt._

" _I can do it, too!" Another dwarf of a kid knitted his brows together and shoveled the snow into his little trowel, then throwing it forwards. The trowel slipped from his grip and flew majestically with the white blob, crashing pathetically by the foot of the Stalwart, whose lips curved upwards when the metal clinked on contact with the ground._

" _I can do it better! At least I didn't throw your spade!"_

" _Hnn! I didn't mean for it to slip, my friend!"_

" _I'll become a student of Shovelry!"_

" _I'll become one, too!"_

" _Let's bet! I'll be the best shovel knight!" He blew a raspberry at the other kid._

" _You're on!"_

" _Now, now, children." The hulking warrior swooped the boys up into massive arms, and grinned at them. "Shovelry… means being nice to others!"_

" _Yes!"_

" _Uh-uh!"_

" _Now, what's our motto?"_

" _Slash mercilessly and dig tirelessly!" The duo answered in chorus._

" _That's not what I… but well, I want you two to grow up into friendly and brave knights!" He plastered an encouraging smile on his face._

 ** _._**

 ** _I is for ink._**

Tinker Knight hummed to himself, sitting on a tall stool to look at a copy of the Flying Machine's floor plan and blueprints. Marks and notes were written in perfectly detailed English, outlining and describing the degree of damage suffered in the third 'floor' of the airship due to the fire started by _someone_ aside from Propeller Knight and himself. Tinker Knight had seen large amounts of gold transported to the Clockwork Tower in carts and wagons, all worth exactly 450,700 gold. He had seen Treasure Knight almost collapse in a sobbing fit when Propeller Knight angrily announced the cost of damage. He had seen the ship's captain actually explode in anger, and it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that he hoped would never happen again. He had seen _hell_ in the _heavens_. Seriously, that Frenchman's display of anger was something! And his equally angry German subordinate scared the living daylights out of everyone! Except probably the phantom menace. That bastard doesn't have emotions. With rivers of blood on his hands, the Tinker Knight wouldn't be surprised if the apparition admitted to emotional death.

Oh, what a time to be an engineer.

He carefully poured ink liquid from a pouch into a pen he made just for himself through a small funnel he also made only for himself.

Thunder suddenly roared, causing the tiny knight to yelp, fall off balance, and spill the black liquid all over the papers laid on the table.

 _Curse you, Enchantress, and your bad weather,_ he mentally shouted.

 ** _._**

 ** _I is for impress._**

"Um, Mona, c-can I show y-you something?" Plague Knight fidgeted, twiddling his thumbs together, unable to look at her in the face. She turned around, brow raised.

"Is there something wrong, Plaguey?"

Plague Knight angrily fought off the red dusting his entire face. Briefly forgetting that he had a bird mask on, he pulled at the edges of his hood to try and cover his face. Mona grinned at the flustered little guy and patted his head fondly.

"You know, Plague Knight, why don't you show me what you want to show me?"

The little bird man's cute little mask tilted up to look directly at her like a child getting his birthday toy. He pulled out a knife and an apple out of his pocket dimension, flung the apple upwards, and jumped to follow it. Using the skill he had secretly practiced for fifty-two days and nights, he slashed expertly at the red apple, slicing it into eight perfect wedges, before falling back to the ground. He caught the apple slices with a plate he materialized as soon as his feet touched the ground, and he proudly showed it to Mona.

She clapped merrily and then took an apple wedge to munch on.

Her happy face completely melted his heart.

 ** _._**

 ** _I is for important._**

 _There._

He fondly placed the little locket onto what he believed was going to feel so comfortable when laid upon. The trinket barely depressed the small cushion, and he even lovingly pulled a blanket onto it like he was tucking it to sleep.

 _Stay there. I'll come back for you._

Specter Knight cast one last glance at the trinket softly. With a very heavy heart, he closed the lid to the magnificent chest he made solely for what everyone else would know as the Phase Locket. He quickly flew away, his left hand glowing yellow to summon the bones of former warriors to recollect and rise up from the blood colored dirt. He spoke his only order to the three Boneclangs with a cold and hard tone, as hard as he believed his voice would become. He wanted this word as law, as something that, even at the end of the world, shall never be broken.

 _Protect the chest at all costs._

 ** _._**

 ** _I is for insurgency._**

 _King Knight is a treacherous bastard, I know, but hear this out. I heard from the servants still at Pridemoor Keep that he's planning to invade the new village._ A woman whispered into the ear of a passing knight.

 _Really?_

 _It's the safe haven for us. If he takes our new home away, we will be forced into slavery._

 _That's horrible!_

The woman faded into shadows with a smile, the concealed saber within her cloak glinting a little as her figure dissolved in the darkness. She watched the knight already start to fear for his new little home and its occupants. Her black hood, decorated at the hems with spears and swords crossed over gladiolus flowers, was pulled up over her face, and her eyes scanned the crowd for ripe targets. Her overcoat, colored navy, had a tail, and the slightly darker shades of the same spear-sword-flower insignia printed on the cloth attracted the attention of several knights talking by the cobblestone roads. They became silent, and they nodded at her in hidden respect. With a smirk, she lost herself in the busy narrow side streets, whispering to a couple of little children, running and playing with hoops.

 _King Knight's been doing very bad things to the people trapped in the keep._

 _What kinds of bad things, miss?_

 _He never gives them good food and makes them sleep in horse stables. He gives so many impossible decrees and has those who couldn't do them beheaded._

 _No! Why would he do that?_

 _Because he is a bad man._

She could barely conceal the ecstasy when the children stopped to play and ran out and away. She walked down more streets and silently stalked by as men, women, and children began whispering and spreading her sayings. She heard every hushed whisper as they spread truths and lies about abuse and evil plots. Everything was going _perfectly_ well. The woman went into a dark corner between houses.

She chanced upon a man, sitting by a crate with bread with garlic spices sprinkled over it in his hand. He nonchalantly munched on the bread, the slight literal burn from the garlic making him scowl. She noted his light blond hair that flowed down to his shoulders, the curiously wide-brimmed hat that would prevent the sun from shining on his handsome face, and his deep red eyes, something that was so odd yet exotic. She paused for a moment to watch him. It wouldn't hurt to stop.

His blood red eyes darted up to her, and spotted her watching him. He threw a neutral glance her way and tipped his hat slightly. He walked out of the dark corner, and into the sunlight, lightly brushing against her hand his own gloved one. She almost withdrew her hand violently, for his finger was colder than _ice._ She gaped at her hand for a split second before looking up at the man, only to see that he had completely vanished in thin air.

A man, cloaked with a similar hood but dyed brown instead of black, tapped her shoulder when she walked into an empty alley. She turned and flashed a grin at him. His thick brows rose up ever so slightly.

"Did something bother you?"

The woman shrugged. "I think I encountered a ghost. But that's out of the league of our little thing, right? Everything is going swimmingly today, One."

He chuckled. "You're mad, Five. Six and Seven are still about to release their diversion and propaganda, but you already beat them to it."

"Brother, you ordered us to spark the resistance." The woman, Five, let her smile become wider. She almost giggled, but she contained her happiness. "I created the chaos we truly need."

"I appreciate how you think ten steps ahead. It's something you learned from big brother Siegfried, hmm?" The man smiled, and it was her turn to glower.

"You self-centered little idiot."

"You forget. I'm four ranks above you. That's insubordination."

"Hmph."

The two put down their hoods and talked merrily, slowly walking down the road as siblings, and not as rebels.

The blond man with the garlic bread rematerialized by the crate, his expression unreadable as white-gold armor began to form around his body, his hands shrank down to black and shriveled, and his clothes turning into the tattered hooded cloak he loved to wear when he felt _cool_. He stared at the garlic bread still in his hands and thought about the things he just learned. First, there was an incitement of resistance within the village. Second, he knew who two of the leaders were. Third, his disguise actually worked, except that he was still very cold. Fourth, garlic bread couldn't force him back into his coffin, and it was a huge relief since the baked pastry, he begrudgingly admitted, tasted great.

He spun around and disappeared within a swirl of red and gray, teleporting out of the village and into the large chamber of the Tower of Fate. He grimaced a little when he knelt before the woman sitting on the highest window.

"Enchantress. There is an organized rebellion in the works within our valley. Your orders?"

The sorceress gazed down, her eyes unreadable. "Let King Knight take care of it. Do not let him know, he must know on his own."

 ** _._**

 ** _I is for igloo._**

"Head count." Polar Knight gruffly harrumphed as the entire Order of No Quarter huddled around a small candle in the Igloo of No Discomfort. They had insisted on going to the Frigid Flight for a group meeting instead of the Tower's dinner hall due to a quick survey pointing out the food being the cause of the frequent fighting. After fighting about if Plague Knight was to blame of their chaos, they chose to go to the icy mountains and brave through snowstorms.

They were then rightfully defeated by General Winter. They were stuck in deep snow with most of them tired. Polar Knight had ordered the creation of a temporary shelter, and surprisingly, no one bickered with one another.

"Wrrn." Treasure Knight piped up, raising his hand up.

"Two." Mole Knight whispered, and then pointed to a knocked out Propeller Knight, curled in Polar Knight's fur coat. "Shh. Three."

"Ugh." Tinker Knight mumbled, snuggling in the cloth draped over him, shutting his eyes. "Four."

"I am here. I'm fifth!" King Knight announced.

"Heh." Plague Knight simply waved a small hand. "Six."

All eyes belonging to awake knights then fell to Specter Knight, who was somehow completely lost in the allure of the orange light of the small flame. He had put both of his hands to the general area of the tiny fire before noticing the confused glances of his fellow members. "Seven." He straightened his composure and stood up. "I'll be outside."

He phased out of the igloo through the wall. Once out of the sight of the others, he sighed, and tiredly sank down to the ground and leaned against the outer wall of the igloo. He unconsciously put his scythe on his lap and rubbed his hands together. For a split second, he saw the appearance of his hands change from pitch black and shriveled to a healthy beige… fully alive.

Back inside, the entire band was silent.

Plague Knight briefly thought about teleporting out and back in the cozy confines of his bedroom. He had all the teleport potions needed to go to the back of the moon and back home hundreds of times, but somehow, something made him not do it. He couldn't put a finger to it, but he certainly didn't like looking at a silent Order of no Quarter and a freezing Tinker Knight.

Mole Knight kindly let Propeller Knight rest on him. The blades of his helmet were a nuisance, so they had to dismantle it through Tinker Knight's instructions. The nobleman was fast asleep and recovering from hypothermia. Mole Knight felt it was good. He recalled the time he himself had passed out while exploring the Lost City for the first time, armed with only a lamp and the company of a few other archaeologists seeking it. The other guys halted the expedition, carried him outside, and submerged him in pond water. Ah, good times.

Polar Knight held a freezing Tinker Knight on his left arm, awkwardly thinking to himself that the engineer might be a baby with a genius adult mind and a very short fuse of patience. He was reminded of his once little and jolly daughter, his tenacious yet ill-fated daughter, trapped and helpless somewhere out there.

Treasure Knight stared at the candlelight, and briefly found a boy living alone in a humble hut by a shore. The small boy was fondly ruffling a dog's head, grinning as the puppy panted happily. The sun was already setting, and they both watched it disappear in the watery horizon.

Tinker Knight awkwardly snuggled in the cloth now bundled around him. He let out a deep sigh, memories of faces mocking him for his size and martial incompetence, and more contempt when he had built weapons capable of firepower greater than the most powerful cannons. Those negative faces were replaced with awe and ineptitude, and they never went near him again.

King Knight furrowed his brows a bit, recalling the rags worn by a past self with the bucket of sudsy water and the mop, dirty and dull compared to the colorful and fashionable garbs of noblemen. Those decadent men never did look at him with pity or pride, honestly appreciating the worker's efforts, but he wasn't buying it. He felt only pretentious gazes.

Propeller Knight sighed in his slumber as he dreamed of France, the friends he had left there, the freshly baked bread, the jovial and beautiful women. He dreamed of his large home, the courtyard packed with both servants and nobility eagerly waiting for him, genuine smiles on their faces. At one moment, however, those smiles turned into angry scowls and all of them wielded weapons and torches, and the large mansion behind them ablaze. They shouted the worst profanities and obscenities at him, drove him out of his homeland, out of France, and denied him amnesty and forgiveness for a crime he never truly committed. Tears started forming in his closed eyes.

 ** _Up next: J is for job._**


	10. J is for joke

_To Spiked Dragon: Ahh, okay. I'll reconsider - I'd have to produce original lyrics, though. Thank you for your suggestions :)_

 _To ProwlerPercy: I'm a mademoiselle, just so you know! And yes, Mona and Plague Knight OTP is the real thing!_

 _To Monkey999Boy: Black Knight technically appeared last chapter. Hint hint: In a flashback. I know this might ruin the fun for what I got planned, but hey, Black Knight's going to make more appearances, along with Shield Knight, on flashback related side-stories. You can expect him to come out more with Shovelry related things, past friendships, and the blooming of not-friendship. Thank you for reading!_

 _To Pipo the Rabbit: Yep, as I progress through more chapters, there are more deep and serious things to tackle! I can't tell for sure which would be my deepest thing to talk about. Each knight has his or her own hidden depths according to my interpretations. As I said above, Black Knight basically appeared in the last chapter. I did already plan on having him appear as a more major person starting K is for Knight._

 _To Like it: How_ ** _dark_** _I interpret the game's story? Hmm. Let's say… Shovel Knight at face value is bright and cheery, but when you think a little bit deeper it has some nightmare fuel. Some of what I think are as follows: how many people did Specter Knight murder (the Lich Yard was a former village, the sinking platforms have souls_ chained, _and another name for graveyard is lichyard)? Is Propeller Knight even a_ willing _member of the Order (lack of possible villainous motivation)? How aware is Shield Knight of the Enchantress' actions (she appears to know about the amulet's magic intimately)? And many more!_

 _Guys get ffnet accounts for goodness' sake this is getting too long holy ship :P_

 ** _._**

 ** _J is for Japanese._**

" _AO!"_ The red liquid samurai screamed at the blob of blue lazily swaying on the ceiling, arms akimbo and purple eyes flaring. Its voice was deep and imposing much like the stoic warrior it was. Two pinprick purple eyes appeared on the blue blob and fixated on the angry red warrior on the ground.

" _Hrrh?_ " The blue one, Ao, lazily fell from the ceiling to the ground, and reformed itself into human form in a swirl of blue water, and languidly stretched its arms up. Its indeterminate weapon viscously moved around in its right hand, moving as if alive. The blue shifter's voice was a little extroverted, evidenced by its loud yawn. The red one abruptly grabbed its blue counterpart by its shoulders and rigorously shook the latter. Ao's purple eyes rolled around in the liquid mass of its head, causing it to scream at the other to cease its relentless shaking. Midori, the green archer, briefly let out a gurgle of horror as Aka, the red swordsman, started to shake the mind out of their blue acquaintance. The archer placed its hands on Aka's shoulders and started to try and pull the angry samurai away from their constantly sleeping blue friend.

" _Aka, yameru!"_ Midori pleaded, its voice light and lilting as it tugged on the sleeve of the red one. " _Yameru!"_

At the cry of the archer, Aka removed his vice-like grip on the shifter, who then immediately fled as fast as he could down the hallway. The swordsman then screamed for the terrified liquid samurai to come back to it and ran after the retreating shifter, closely followed by a deeply concerned green samurai.

As this event transpired, eight dumbfounded ruthless warriors and an unamused sorceress stood shocked at them.

"What… are those?" Mole Knight asked curiously.

"Liquid Samurai, my most capable warriors." The Enchantress answered monotonously.

"What language are they speaking?"

The evil witch glanced down at the anthropologist and replied flatly. "Japanese."

"Japanese? Marvelous! I have never heard the language spoken within these areas! I wonder what the land of Japan is like…"

 ** _._**

 ** _J is for judgment._**

" _We. Are. Still. Lost."_ The young student, caked in layers of dirt and grime, grumpily said to the professor.

"Don't worry! Mole Knight will watch out for us!"

"What kind of sick judgment do you have?"

 ** _._**

 ** _J is for juiced (slang for drunk)._**

"What's zhat? _"_ Albrecht muttered, hearing the commotion in the dinner hall, decided to enter the area. He swore he could hear lots of cursing and slashing and smashing, as well as furniture being thrown around wantonly.

The Hoverhaft entered, a pang of fear for his captain stabbing his gut instincts. The Frenchman could claim everything, but the halberdier knew fencing and an unsettling mastery in the art of seduction and romance wasn't going to save the guy when faced with a digger, a dead man, and a bomb-happy bird all fighting against him.

Albrecht pushed the large door into the mess hall open, and ducked in time when a platter of sumptuous chicken sailed through the air over his head.

" _WAS IST LOS?"_ He screeched, horrified at the sight before him. It reeked of liquor, and the entire mess hall was, well, a mess, with food, blood, burns, and broken furniture lying around. Polar Knight was sitting in the corner, quietly enjoying his drink and chicken, eyes observing the violent ball of smoke.

"Why don't you come here and savor the moment?" Polar Knight monotonously asked. Albrecht was about to sit and worry alone when an angry shout stopped his train of thought.

" _Je vais rire et vous trouverez que vous êtes morts!"_ Propeller Knight, red in the face and his fashionable clothes somehow untouched, raised his rapier up and charged at the nearest victim. " _Juste attendre! Il est pas parce que je suis faible! Je suis fort! Je vais sortir victorieux-"_

His rapid French was cut short by a certain blue shovel powerfully smacking him in the head. The blades of his magnificent helmet were snapped off by that shovel swing. He fell to the ground like a ragdoll.

"He is first to fall. Good." Polar Knight flatly murmured as Albrecht screamed in horror.

" _Herr Propeller!"_ The Hoverhaft called out, and swooped in the ball of smoke. He swore he could hear everyone curse and try to kill each other.

"Ack!" A normally husky and quiet voice painfully (if not mockingly) cried.

"Die, you phantom!" A muffled voice answered back, and then an audible slash was heard shortly.

"None challenge my authority!"

A large red missile launched through the air and exploded near an edge of the table.

"Take back what you said about my field of work!"

"NEVER!"

Albrecht grabbed one of the limp Frenchman's hands and dragged him away from the brawl, forcing many a knight away with the power of the propeller blades attached to his back.

" _Allons-y!"_ The hammered Spin Controller sang as his underling pulled his body to the silent corner. Polar Knight looked over at them as Albrecht unhooked the straps connecting the helmet to his torso. He threw the helmet off his head and let him lie comfortably on the cold stone floor.

"I must go and bring order to this chaos." Polar Knight put down his mug and licked his greasy fingers. He picked up his snow shovel and marched to the table.

" _Qui es-tu?"_ Propeller Knight murmured, his entire world spinning and warping into different unnatural shapes.

" _Ich bin dein Handlanger._ _Schlafen Sie, bitte_." Albrecht replied, watching the Norse warrior raise his fist up.

"Mmm." Propeller Knight placed his arm under his head and yawned. " _Allons à la maison."_

" _Später._ Zhis is interesting."

Polar Knight brought his fist down on the table, nearly cracking it. " _EVERYONE BE QUIET!"_

This shout penetrated the haze of drunkenness, making everyone stop. The sight before him was indescribable. Shovel Knight and Mole Knight were at each other's throats. Specter Knight was impaled with a spear made of pure silver, not even fazed by the normally undead-killing metal. In fact, the apparition was not drunk at all; just very aggravated by the fact he got skewered. Treasure Knight was behind the phantom, attempting to retrieve the _silver_ he used to stab him. Tinker Knight was on top of his tank, accidentally pressing the 'fire' button, causing a missile to launch to the door, breaking it down. King Knight was in an embarrassing position – he was so drunk he was trying to strangle his own cape. Plague Knight was nowhere to be seen.

"All go home!" Polar Knight ordered loudly.

The knights just wordlessly dispersed.

 ** _._**

 ** _J is for janitor fish._**

"You're a very odd fish." Treasure Knight murmured to the grayish fish swimming around him. "I owned an aquarium once."

The specked black and white fish with large and impressive fins only swam around, not even caring about the human's muffled speech. The janitor fish only diligently ate the floating food around it.

"I do not like the way you stick your mouths on the aquarium's walls." The pillager mumbled. "The way you have fins that look like arms… you do know you look like human beings trying to make out, for lack of a better term, with a wall?"

 ** _._**

 ** _J is for juggle._**

If he were a circus performer, he'd be the best juggler to have ever graced the earth.

The Bard was a very busy man, very busy. He was about to go insane if it weren't for his lovely pet of almost a decade dozing around in his house all day.

His life was somehow both a blessing and a curse. The only purposes of his existence were to compose music for everyone and anything that needs badass tunes, to break the fourth wall at times, and to connect the yacht gods to the citizens of the world they lived in. What a loser job, but at least it involved music!

Juggling these responsibilities around, however, was hard to do, and yet the Bard managed. His status as a _bridge between beyond and here_ – holy shit! Badass! – enabled him to persevere. Especially with the clusterfuck of clients he was hired to work with.

His first client, Shovel Knight, had been very polite and amiable. The guy provided so much constructive feedback that the Bard really loved working on his tunes.

The second, Black Knight, was unfortunately quite terrifying. Sure, he exhibited the same politeness, but the guy was annoying. With a squeaky voice, horrible social skills, and a subconscious obsession with rivalry, the Bard barely made it through this second client without pouring his _holy wrath_ upon this inept shovel dude.

The third, Shield Knight, had to be kept secret from literally everyone except the gods. She was alive, but if anyone knew he was writing music for a supposedly dead lady, his existence would be questioned. He had to make an excuse about string quartets, marriages, and funerals! Dark humor did help people through the toughest of times.

The rest of his clients, nine plus one merciless – wait, not really, Propeller Knight was not murderous at all – fighters had him tossed in a sack and brought to the Tower of Fate! Like, really! _I'm already juggling thirteen balls and two more, and I don't exactly have the physical ability to do that,_ he had been _calmly_ thinking when he was calmly dusting off imaginary lint off his orange garb. And things went really downhill after that.

He could write a novel about juggling responsibilities around. With a barely audible sigh, the Bard took his trusty lute, and checked if it was still tuned properly.

"So," the yellow minstrel flatly asked, his eye twitching as he glared at the group, "what am I doing here?"

"You are to compose music for us, musician." The Enchantress replied.

"Yeah, yeah, I already know that, girl, it's my _divine_ duty to make music for y'all." The Bard shrugged and barely held back from grumbling. "Can I go home now?"

 ** _._**

 ** _J is for job opening._**

" _Hey, didn't you hear? The soaked girl chained to an iron ball we found years ago got a job somehow!"_ A spirit, young-looking with a childish buck-tooth, giddily said. He swung his heavy spiked mace around, something that corporeal scrawny noodle arms could not hope to do.

" _Really?"_ A shorter ghost, wearing a heavy pickelhaube-like helmet and a pair of glasses with broken lenses, spun around.

" _You idiot, I was just at the Reaper's village last night! Party's totally cool! An' I saw her there, working as the Reaper's assistant! That's WICKED awesome!"_

" _How?"_

" _I don't know, you little idiot, but she somehow got there! Rumor has it that she basically just asked, and the Reaper immediately gave her a job!"_ The buck-toothed spirit shrugged. " _I asked around, and they all said he was going nuts at the time, and bla bla bla."_

" _What?"_ The short ghost's jaw hung low, more confused than enlightened.

" _I know right! The Apparition's got a soft side to him!"_

" _What?!"_

" _I heard she used puppy dog eyes on him and he yielded! I mean, he got a vicious reputation there, with the massive four-digit body count, I think, to prove that. He's the lord of death, and he fell victim to cute things! I'm totally going there! Maybe if I do that too, I'll get a job and be out of this hell of a boring undeath!"_

" _WHAT?!"_

/later that month/

"Servant," Specter Knight sighed as he shook his head at a very large crowd of foreign souls outside of his lair's gates, "what are they doing?"

The ghost lady shrugged. "I know some of them. They were the first ones I met in this life! They're looking for work opportunities, I hear. Unemployed and homeless, every single one of them."

"And they happen to think that the Lich Yard is… 'open for applicants'? With those ridiculous faces they are making, I will reject every single one of them regardless of urgency." He sent a very nasty glower at the crowd. "And to think they dare come to me…"

"Please, my master, don't be so cruel!" The petite assistant begged, hands clasped together. "I was jobless when you hired me, right? You were as kind as to give me one! Even for no pay! And you're frankly terrifying, but that's better than nothing for the rest of eternity!"

His shoulders drooped. Oh, the omnipresent boredom issue every immortal has to overcome. He cast one last glance at the suddenly silent crowd by the gates, looming over the entire mass. He almost ordered for them to be driven away, but an idea struck his mind.

"Well, I have something in store for you." He chuckled as he let the gates open.

/ten minutes later/

" _Bad."_ The short ghost with the broken glasses harshly said to his buck-toothed friend, trying to relieve the pain of his hands chained to the surface of the floor by shaking his incorporeal body. He, along with the entire group of ghosts that went to the infamous reaper's lair for relief from eternal unrest, were bound to the ground and forced down, turning a patch of bloodstained earth into a moving platform that sunk when it became too heavy. Mindless skeletons of the village's former inhabitants and defenders wandered on them so often that it was torture.

" _Yeah. Wasn't expectin' this, buddy. Sorry."_

 ** _._**

 ** _J is for joke._**

"I must be ahead of you." Specter Knight muttered, floating to the front of the group of eight. "I am tasked with reconnaissance."

"Go, go." Polar Knight said.

When the apparition got out of earshot, or at least looked to be out of earshot, the seven huddled in a tight ball and waited for the recon report.

"I guess we can say…" King Knight smirked as he whispered, "that Specter Knight is… _no longer with us!"_

The group snickered, trying to stifle loud laughs. At a drop of a hat, a spinning scythe sailed through the air, closely and dangerously circling around them, effectively shutting all of them up. The weapon's owner made sure for the blade's blunt edge to touch King Knight, making the monarch gasp and faint, but not enough to make him bleed.

"Do not joke about me." Specter Knight's harsh voice echoed in the Order's minds.

 ** _._**

 ** _J is for jump._**

"Plaguey!" Mona called out to the frozen Plague Knight, running to him. At the sound of her voice, he attempted to snap out of his fearful trance to turn around to face her. Unfortunately he was held in place by his fright of the essences appearing to violently fight off his efforts to stop the final distillation. And they were winning so far.

He felt Mona's warm hand on his shoulder when the multicolored volatile soullike substances broke Plague Knight's alchemical barrier. Everything went pitch black, and suddenly something breathed air onto his shoulder.

He almost bomb jumped away to eliminate the thing behind him, out of fear and shock. He decided against it and stood firmly rooted to the ground, even when the black _being_ leapt in front of him and threw its own bombs at him. Bombs that looked exactly like what he always used. His heart beat faster. Was it the pulse of his heart for the woman whose warm touch woke him up from death? Was it from fright of _himself?_

Plague Knight glared at the being, an exact replica of what he always pretended to be, and it looked back with the same crazed look he always used. It jumped up and released a cluster of flaming explosives, one of them going into the direction of the little alchemist. And yet, he somehow decided against avoiding it… for some reason.

The bomb did hit him – Plague Knight felt the searing heat of the purple flame that engulfed him, but when it subsided, he wasn't a pile of ash and bones on the ground. The black _being_ promptly ceased its eccentric jumps and attacks, standing just before him.

" _You are steadfast in your resolve… maybe there is hope for us yet…"_ ** _*_**

 ** _Up next: K is for knight._**

 ** _*_** _Yes, you can defeat the Plague of Shadows by standing still. I still don't know how to digest this information. I just wanted to share._

 _Translations:_

 _Yameru – stop it_

 _Was ist los – what's happening_

 _Je vais rire et vous trouverez que vous êtes morts! Juste attendre! Il est pas parce que je suis faible! Je suis fort! Je vais sortir victorieux! – (holy ship my French couldn't handle it so I resorted to google please help me) I will laugh and you will find yourselves dead! Just wait! It's because I'm weak! I'm strong! I will emerge victorious!_

 _Allons-y – let's go_

 _Qui es-tu? – Who are you?_

 _Ich bin dein Handlanger. Schlafen Sie, bitte – I'm your underling. Go to sleep please._

 _Allons à la maison – let's go home_

 _Später - later_

 _The names of the three LS are respectively the Japanese words for their own colors._


	11. K is for kettle whistle

_To Spiked Dragon: I'd love to work on Shovels/shields and switch! S is just chock-full of fun things!_

 _To Monkey999Boy: Awww D: And yes, it is serious. Honestly, do not do anything in the fight against the Plague of Shadows. Get yo' hands off the keyboard or controller. It'll say something and give up haha_

 _Also, **to clarify** , since someone directly asked me a few days ago. In this AU(probably?), I mentioned the countries of France, Germany, and Japan. England probably does, too. However, medieval history does not necessarily apply. The religion is more or less a worship of the 'yacht gods' if you haven't picked that up yet… lol. The stories here are mostly set in the Kingdom of Pridemoor, a completely fictional country from the game. I'm welcome to questions and suggestions! 'Tis my divine duty to fix what is unclear for you, my dear readers._

 _ **.**_

 ** _K is for king._**

King Knight went out for a peaceful walk one day. Surveying his fiefs and sovereign was so relaxing for a true monarch like him. The day's military parade was already stressing him, even if the parade would be held later.

Little did he know that a certain specter with a penchant for stalking and learning potentially destructive information for his ever-growing need for tools in psychological warfare followed him closely in the bushes. King Knight had no care at all in the world as he took in the sight of wonderful land, all rightfully his to rule.

After some time, the usurper came across a gorgeous woman, whose light brown hair looked softer than the best silk and flew in the air like the flags of his kingdom. She was seated on the grass, hugging her knees and quietly enjoying the afternoon wind. Her dress was emerald green, decorated with gold embroidery at the hems of her sleeves and skirt. She looked like a noblewoman. _She must be a duchess or a baroness,_ he thought.

 _I'll make you my queen, milady._

King Knight plotted. If he wooed a woman to be his queen, then he would be able to effectively fight back Propeller Knight's jeers at his unsuccessful flirting! _That wine bastard! Always getting the ladies! And bragging about it all the time!_

King Knight sauntered to the seated woman and snuck up on her. Her shoulders stiffened when he spoke to her lowly and, horrifyingly, seductive. "My lady, you are marvellous, even from here. I have fallen for your effortless beauty. Pray tell, what is thy name? I know it sounds like birds chirping lovely melodies in the trees!" He tried recalling one of the corny lines Propeller Knight always used with the ladies that worked all the time.

The lady put her hand up to her lips and giggled as quietly as she could. He beamed.

"Flattered, my lady?" King Knight proudly waved his wrist around. "I think I have enough charm like that French guy in my team."

"Oh, King Knight," 'she' turned 'her' head to see King Knight's horrified face at the sound of lilting voice and the sight of hazel eyes, sculpted face, and perfect white teeth in an all-too-familiar French grin, "do you really think I'm beautiful?"

He shut his gaping mouth and shook his head wildly. "Shut up, bedswerver!" King Knight cursed, shielding his ears from the Frenchman's annoying laugh, praying silently for the gods to let him just wither away to ashes then and there. When the yacht gods expressed disapproval at his fervent prayers and threw his pleas in a holy trash can, King Knight immediately hightailed out of there, tears of embarrassment running down his puffy cheeks.

"The _très bien moi_ wants an embrace!" Propeller Knight jokingly said as he chased the sobbing monarch, his green tunic flapping in the wind much like a woman's skirt. "Come here!"

From the safety of the bushes, the apparition started to chuckle. As quiet as a mouse, he crawled away from the general area, leaves and twigs stuck on his cloak. Just imagine, when the time comes, he would cite this incident to everyone and make King Knight completely humiliated! How evil, how satisfying, how disturbing! _'There was a pretty girl, so King Knight hit on her. But then, it was Propeller Knight in a long tunic!'_ How amusing!

The apparition then thought of his next target: the growing insurrection's leaders. Just a way to stop being bored, more or less.

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for kneel._**

The ghost didn't entirely expect that he would take a round trip to the nearby village then back to the castle. He also didn't expect they would mix in _too_ well in the crowd of Pridemoor's citizens under King Knight's rule. The tight cluster of life forces in one place confused him, so he had to resort to joining the living.

Disguising himself as human again, he followed the crowd of Pridemoor's coerced citizens, walking with the nobles. He did attract some attention with his flashy red garments - with a wide scarlet hat on his head, a fancy coat fit for a high noble like a duke, a height of six and a half feet, and sunshine gold hair neatly tied at the back of his head with a white band and some stray strands framing the face of an angel, who wouldn't notice? _But then I am more of a demon_ , he told himself as a group of youthful ladies made their presence known to him by moving close to him and blushing. _I am neither an angel nor an ideal Prince Charming._

He nonchalantly wedged himself away from them and refocused his mind on looking for the insurgency leaders. In the sea of peopl, he attempted to single out the two leaders' faces. The man and older sibling had thick brows, steel gray eyes, square jaw, a bit of five o'clock shadow, and dirty blond hair. He was supposed to be dressed in gray armor with a yellow cape indicating his high status within King Knight's forces. The younger sibling had brown eyes and matching dark brown hair. Knight inched to the outer edges of the stream of civilians, trying to find the man in the group of knights.

He immediately saw him leading a platoon of knights, and he smirked. The two-faced man, called Siegfried by name but One within the ranks of the rebels, rode his horse proudly. The apparition caught his gaze and noticed something hidden behind the windows of his soul.

 _They're planning something,_ he thought to himself.

He looked at the squads behind the man, and noticed the uneasy and impatient postures and expressions. Some frowned, some were sweating. He furrowed his brows.

"Excuse me," Specter Knight politely said to a peacock man, quite surprised at the sound of his human voice, "what is the exact occasion?"

"Today's the military parade. The major commanders of Pridemoor's army would have to take their oaths of allegiance again." The peacock gent answered.

 _Oh._ He let out a small chuckle. _Alright._ "Thank you very much."

The crowd stopped. Specter Knight watched the parade of soldiers march proudly with their pikes, halberds, swords, and staffs. Horsemen boasted their lances. The entire battalion of knights went into formation before the covered bleachers.

Specter Knight eyed his teammate seated like a Roman emperor on the balcony. He looked like he had gotten over his mishap with Propeller Knight earlier that day, and seemed excited to look at his army. Sizeable, well-armed, about to swear allegiance to him. Ripe for the sacrificing.

As soon as everyone got in place, King Knight stood. When he walked to the edge of the balcony, the knights knelt in front of him. Specter Knight couldn't help but notice how every soldier behind Siegfried knelt with their right knee up and hand on the handles of their sheathed swords. He cast a projection of himself beside One immediately.

King Knight took a scroll from one of his slaves and read out its contents. "Repeat after me. I, state thy name, in order to establish…"

"Dammit Irma," He heard Siegfried whisper, "you conceived the plan, where's the signal?"

"Siegfried… and Irma…" Specter Knight whispered to himself. "What beautiful names."

He looked up at the roof over the balcony, and saw a figure there. A black hood, navy blue cape with gladiolus flowers, spear and sword crossed over it. The figure carried a small rock, and held it over the usurper.

Before he could string together a thought, he was cut off by the rising tension within the crowd of noblemen and commoners. In his view, literally every man with a coat reached into their breast pockets or belts. Every woman pushed their children away and formed a circle around their young. Everyone looked like they were preparing. He turned himself invisible to the living and reverted back to his phantom form. He floated up and to the balcony to see everything.

"... do swear to uphold this oath-"

The rock was dropped onto King Knight's shoulder plate. It created a small dent and smudge on his golden armor.

"What is that?" He looked up to the roof, only to be greeted by Five's malicious grin. She immediately stood and ran down the roof, avoiding the arrows shot at her. One of them grazed her cheek, and she dove behind cover.

Every soldier under One unsheathed their weapons in unison. Lancers and footmen alike surrounded the balcony area, entering into a riot with King Knight's partisans. Blood spilled on stone slabs, and shouts filled the air.

"Free the rightful king! Down with the pretentious usurper!"

"This is not real!" King Knight cried, clawing his hands on his puffy face. His brows knitted together in fury and his cheeks turned red. "An insurgency of chaos! In my kingdom! Arrest all rebels, toss them into the dungeons and lose the keys!"

The apparition stayed invisible on the balcony. He watched the rebels quickly win their first skirmish, the peasants _and_ the wealthy successfully repelling incoming loyalists to the usurper. He looked at the leaders of the rebel army, praising their competence and wits in his own mind. He relished in the sight of the bloody revolt below him, the rebels striking down every warrior, every noble, every man and woman bribed by the usurper. Screams of terror from the dishonest split the day, cheers from the noncombatants drove the liberators, and the fighters shouted their declaration of victory.

He tilted his head out of habit, immediately thinking of the Lich Yard. He would be their enemy, knowing that the Yard only existed because he had invaded and… _murdered_ every single soul unlucky enough to stay behind the evacuating residents. Someday, he would face either One or Five.

One, whose name was Siegfried, the two-faced commander of the armed forces who revealed his true colors as a loyal soldier to the deposed king and as a rebel against King Knight. His sister, Five, whose name was Irma, the bringer of chaos that sparked the insurgency against the current monarchy.

They would one day face him, in a battle for his territory, if he would keep it or lose it. A battle of strength against One, and a game of wits with Five. Maybe a little bit of playing with the others.

 _In short, it is something to do!_

A wide grin found its way to his lips.

 _It is a beautiful day, is it not?_

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for kettle._**

 _Day 6, in the middle of nowhere_

The Order of No Quarter, somehow punished by the Enchantress for loss of teamwork, spent an eternity together on _that fucking island._ Actually, it was just for a couple of months, but it was already eternity for most of them _._

The first one to lose it was, unsurprisingly but worryingly, Propeller Knight, as shown by his happy frog-hunting activities and rambling about his German subordinate who may or may not have mutinied in his airship. The first one to be lost is Plague Knight, and no one knows where the bird man went. Nobody cared. Everyone did care about King Knight's noisy complaints, Specter Knight's unsettling excitement, and Tinker Knight's overworking imagination.

A sharp peal split the otherwise tranquil morning. The knights rose from their slumber quite angrily, rushing out of their palm leaf tents to investigate the noise.

"What crap is making that sound?!" Treasure Knight bellowed while everyone emerged from their shelters. All but Propeller Knight stared at the odd contraption built on the shore. He had spotted a big frog hopping by the wild bushes near the palm trees. Silence ensued, except for the sharp whistle, the waves of the sea crashing down on the shore, the wind blowing, and a quiet ' _ohonhonhon'._

"Tinker Knight." Polar Knight called out to the frozen inventor by the sea. Tinker Knight spun around happily. Dark circles were already under his eyes, making his grin look unsettling.

"Want fresh water?" He placed a leafy cup under a faucet and twisted the cross shaped thing above it. Water flowed from the faucet and into the cup. "I made a device that converts seawater into freshwater! I installed a filter made of palm wood…"

The rest of the knights tuned out the engineering jargon that came out of the inventor's mouth afterwards. Treasure Knight took it as an opportunity to fix the tangled chains in his anchor arm. Polar Knight gained a sudden interest in a nearby coconut tree. Specter Knight started to swish his cloak in an effort to make it billow a bit more. Mole Knight sat down on the sand and began drawing a couple of houses and seven stick people with the Order's distinct weapons. King Knight started whistling nonchalantly.

"... and _voila! A giant kettle with a filter!_ Drink this! It's great!" He held out the cup of water

Polar Knight wordlessly took the cup, sipped from it, and thought about it. "Refreshing. Good work."

"Everyone will live!" King Knight dramatically declared, picking up the tiny man and squishing him in an embrace.

"Feed this to Propeller Knight." Polar Knight gestured pitifully to the Frenchman, who had somehow built a bonfire in the span of a few minutes and was already roasting a frog above it. "I think this will restore his sanity."

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for knit._**

This room was the warmest place in the Stranded Ship. It was just a small chamber with a tiny fireplace. There was a big chair by the corner and an old drawer table stood beside it. The drawers were full of yarn with assorted colors. Polar Knight pulled one out and gathered a substantial amount of red and yellow yarn.

When he pulled out all of the red yarn, something came along with it. It was an unfinished scarf. He recalled that the scarf was his first attempt at one. Polar Knight let out a thoughtful "hmm".

He pulled out the scarf from tangled yarn. It was already intricately decorated with different golden snowflakes, and it was yet to be knitted to a proper length.

 _'Shovel Knight and I are going to this crummy old tower next month. The King of Pridemoor has enlisted us as champions, by the way. Isn't that lovely?'_

 _The Stalwart chuckled at the letter. Shield Knight was still as chipper as ever even after going to several battles. He could actually hear her voice in his head. Her cheerfulness never waned in any situation, and he admired the lady for her strength._

 _'He says it's called the Tower of Fate. It's a nice name for a twisted tower. I wonder what my fate would be in there.'_

 _"Ah, you little girl." Polar Knight smiled at the words. "Always curious. Always quirky."_

 _'We would have to purge the tower of its evil. Like usual. I'm going on another adventure again. But before that, it's springtime here. It's pretty nice to see so much life, but I miss the snow. I'll probably be back for vacation sometime in the winter. I just hope Shovel Knight would be amicable for a short visit! Love, Shield Knight.'_

 _"He will be happy to come back." Polar Knight put the letter down. He grabbed his favorite red yarn and looked for his needles. "Because you say so."_

He sighed deeply at the memory. It was her last letter to him before he learned of her fate in the Tower. He sat down on the chair and continued working on the scarf.

 _'I'll probably be back for vacation sometime in the winter.'_

"I'll get you out of there." He murmured quietly. "Black Knight is looking for a way. And then you'll have the vacation you want."

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for knuckle._**

"Grrds. Darmmrrt." Treasure Knight cursed at his metal gauntlet, wiggling his hand out of it. "My krrckles! Strrck!"

"You need to have that fixed now." Tinker Knight flatly said.

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for kick._**

"Plague Knight!" Mona called out with a smile on her face, rubbing her swollen tummy. Plague Knight burst off of the tall ladder he was on and landed in front of the pregnant woman. An odd thought crossed his mind as his feet touched the stone floor. _I think I just went to bed a few minutes ago…_

"Yes?"

"It's kicking." She beamed. He happily placed his hand on her belly, feeling a powerful foot kick. She winced a little, but chuckled lightly. She caressed her baby bump affectionately.

"We've got a healthy baby in there, hee!" He grinned at his crush for so many years. The grin disappeared when two arms draped over his shoulder.

" _Oui,_ my child is healthy!"

"WHAT?!" He screeched, pushing the Frenchman off of him _._

Plague Knight's eyes opened, only to see a Frenchman's face within inches from the tip of his nose, brows furrowed in concern for him. He snarled and proceeded to twist on his bed, flailing his arms and legs up violently. He clawed at Propeller Knight's neck, but the Frenchman grabbed him by his hips and held him away from him. Plague Knight's short arms could not reach the man's throat, so he settled on pounding his fists weakly on his arms.

"I knew something about you makes me uncomfortable around you!" He accused furiously. "You made Mona pregnant, you knave!"

"What on earth are you talking about, _mon ami?"_ Propeller Knight gawked, glancing back to the tall woman by the door. His German underling's jaw almost fell off at the accusation.

 _"I don't know!_ Something about you doesn't sit in well for me, and you-"

"Plaguey." Mona's stern voice silenced the furious alchemist. She walked to his bedside and took the blabbering bird from their French acquaintance. She set him on her lap and wrapped him tightly in her arms. "I'm not pregnant."

"B-but-"

"It's a nightmare, sweetie." Mona ruffled his hair. "Nothing happened."

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for key._**

The hedgehog pupil wept as he held the picture of his parents close to his chest. "Why did Plague Knight have to blow the house up?" He lamented, tears falling down his face. "He's so mean and… and not nice…"

He held the picture out again to look at his late mother and father. They had supported him and understood his affinity for alchemy, but they died in a carriage accident. His lips quivered at the sight of the charred edges of the portrait, but at least it wasn't blown up with the rest of the house. He examined the charred edges sadly, until he caught a bright gleam in the grass. He knelt to investigate it, and picked up the object.

It was a small rod with a circular end. It was silver in color, but red rust had marred its beautiful luster. The rod had teeth, intricately carved and filed for locks protecting against lockpicks.

Then it hit him hard with the subtle grace of a yacht.

"Holy ship…" he gasped. He looked back at his smiling parents and wept harder. " _Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry!"_

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for kiss._**

"Oh, mademoiselle, you are radiant today." Propeller Knight once again tried to flirt with Mona. He bowed and took her hand in his. Magenta dusted Mona's cheeks.

Cue violent explosion in 3…

"Oh, how charming." Mona grinned from ear to ear, glancing to the two men behind him. The smaller one started trembling and shaking, and the other was happily anticipating what would happen next.

2…

"It's a pleasure to meet you again." Propeller Knight kissed her hand softly. His lithe hands ghosted from her arm and to her hot cheeks.

1…

"Get off of her, you!" Plague Knight screeched, aiming for the beak of his staff to hit and smash the Frenchman's skull in and hopefully get him six feet under. Albrecht silently cheered for the jealous bird.

Propeller Knight dropped Mona's delicate hand and jumped back with a gasp when the little angry alchemist swung his cane at him. The sheer surprise of the Spin Controller sent him tumbling down to the polished floor. The furious bird hopped over and sat on the Frenchman's hip, smacking the latter repeatedly and rapidly. And Propeller Knight could not do anything but accept the punishment and curl into an overdramatic crying ball on the ground.

"Staff! Of! Striking!" Plague Knight hollered as he ruthlessly bashed his friend. "Stop! Hitting! On! My! Girl-"

" _Désolé! Désolé_!" Propeller Knight cried, summoning sparkling tears to roll down his face. " _Aidez-moi!_ Albrecht!"

"Haha, how about _nein_. Plague Knight!" The Hoverhaft with schadenfreude aimed at only the Frenchman called out gleefully. "Do zhis for me, alright? Shove zhat stick up his a-"

 _"Non!"_ Propeller Knight screamed in pain. "Don't do what he says!"

Plague Knight slapped his cheek with an open hand. "Hnn!"

" _Arrête!_ "

Thus, history was written when a flirtatious French noble cried shimmering tears of pain while a small bird man brutally smacked him with his staff, and in the scene stood an overjoyed German knight laughing hard at the plight of his best friend and a tall statuesque stunner dismissing the entire ordeal as harmless bickering.

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for knife._**

Once upon a time, Treasure Knight and Mole Knight teamed up to drill to an underwater cavern that was marked as a treasure trove. Instead of a treasure trove, however, it was a ruins of a metropolis that had no true name. It was a very large cave with its own peculiar climate – there was a cold area, waterfall, a patch of land that was several degrees hotter, and a grand castle at the heart of the city. The castle extended upwards to the ceiling of the cave. The two knights went on.

Despite the ruins' lack of life, the two started feeling very uneasy when they found several big piles of dust in the most odd of places. They found clumps of dust on tables and chairs, in libraries, in laboratories (especially the largest laboratory, where the dust moved like slime), in beds, beside unreadable signs on the walls. In the last grand hallway before what looked like the throne room was a single cluster of ashes drenched in sweet-smelling red substance. The hallway's pillars were littered with single marks of something sharp, and some of the pillars seem like being blasted away violently. Only the digging team's voices could be heard, but at least they remedied that creepy atmosphere of the entire place.

On the topmost floor was a single relic. Bones of a young child lying on his or her back, a worn dagger clasped in the right hand and a pretty metal pendant tied around the neck. It wore a striped yellow and green shirt, somehow still clean despite the area's dirtiness.

"I don't think we should touch that thing!" Mole Knight exclaimed. "I've been to a particularly unsettling archaeological find," the anthropologist winced at the memory of the eight mutilated bodies, "and this one feels bad!"

"Hrr drr." Treasure Knight mocked as he stepped over to take the pendant. As soon as his hand came in contact with the heart-shaped pendant, two pinprick red eyes glowed from the skeleton's eye sockets. And both of them noticed. Then they scrambled for the exit when it started gaining flesh. The remains of the child bolted upright, the flesh of the face showing a permanently curled up mouth. Its cheeks were pink, and its expression unsettlingly sunny. The hand holding the worn dagger shot up towards the ceiling.

"Greetings."

" _I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THAT THING!"_

" _RRRM SURRY!"_

 ** _._**

 ** _K is for knight._**

 _"Oof!" The blue-eyed child yelped when he landed on the snow on his butt. His lips quivered as his brown eyed friend laughed at him. His cackle was squeaky and_ annoying _, but he offered his hand to his fallen friend._

 _"I have you, buddy!" He proudly beamed his cheerful smile._

Something knocked at the back of his mind. A memory, perhaps?

 _"You aren't going to be accepted if you sleep around and doze!" The Stalwart, or maybe the Worst Drill Sergeant Ever, barked at the young disciples of his art. He paced around the training room, hands on the small of his back. He observed the trainees sparring against each other with dummy shovels and leather armor._

 _"YOU!" He shouted at the two young and short trainees who seemed to have fallen in love with the concept of distance. "Spar closer! The enemy is a dirty being, for he will never think of courtesy in the skirmishes! War is uncivilized!"_

 _The two, almost identical in height and drive for entering the Order of Shovelry, paused and bowed in front of the Stalwart. He let out a thoughtful 'hmph' when those two students immediately followed his order, crossing shovels with their feet and bodies closer._

Shovel Knight awoke in the middle of the night, feeling a heavy object on his shoulder. He roused and yawned a bit, stretching his tired arms up.

Just a few hours ago, he had planted the last shovel drop on the enemy's top. He remembered shouting for his partner to follow him through an escape route. He remembered being shot down by magic, remembered exactly how searing heat and icy cold mixed together with sweet pain and agonizing tenderness. Colors flooded his vision in streams. It was the most confusing and the most frightening moment of his life.

When he tried to move his left arm, he couldn't. The shovelrous knight cracked tired eyes open. He was immediately greeted with the friendly sight of a tall red helmet snugly strapped to a woman's head.

 _"Today, we test how ready you are to enter the Order of Shovelry." The Worst Drill Sergeant Ever turned Best Fatherly Teacher In World History announced. The novices gasped, exclaiming their discontent and surprise._

 _"The enemy strikes at unpredictable times." A short student, his leather armor red with obsidian highlights, stated firmly. He shut up the entire class with his firm statement. "Victory comes when you are mentally and physically prepared."_

 _The teacher nodded silently. "Look at him. He is ready."_

 _"I'm not." He shrank in his chair and sulked, earning a disappointed glare from the Stalwart._

 _"You are an idiot." The short student's best friend and rival in sparring whispered from behind him. He wore blue leather armor, matching his eyes. His cerulean orbs twinkled with friendly mischief, while the other disciple wanted to smack him in the face._

"Shield Knight?"

The lady in red stirred awake, as peacefully as a fish rippling pond water. "Hmm?"

"Is this… are you real?"

"Tower's down." She sleepily replied. "I want to sleep."

Her simple words warmly tugged at the long-strained strings of his heart. It was her firm yet tender voice that confirmed to him that it _really was her_ lying beside him. He snuggled closer in content.

 _"Hey, Shovel Knight!"_

 _The entire class turned around to face the dwarfish teen 'knight' in red and black armor with a curious glance. The zealous brilliance in brown eyes disappeared as he felt the gazes of his classmates on him._

 _"Sorry, I meant him." He gestured ineptly at his friend, who was in front of a mirror and vainly posing in his new blue and gold armor. The new recruit that was just called 'Shovel Knight' glowered._

 _"Hello."_

 _His creamy brown eyes gleamed happily. He raised his pinky up. "Can we make a promise, buddy?"_

 _His brow raised. "What's that?"_

 _"She taught me this is how people make a promise." His happy face faded. "And if we break it, the breaker-"_

 _"The one who broke the promise…" He corrected. He swooned inwardly at the thought of just who 'she' referred to._

 _"... will have to cut his pinky off."_

 _The 'knight' in blue shook his head in disappointment. "After all these years of friendship… you only learned of that now… you know you're an idiot, right?"_

 _"I just want to be friends with you until our last moments!"_

 _"That, I can promise." He put his pinky up. With that gesture, the brown-eyed initiate curled his own pinky finger around the other's in a death grip._

"What happened?"

She raised a hand languidly. "Enchantress blew you up."

"I'm sure I'm not in bloody pieces."

"Hah. You win."

 _As both ranked up in the Order of Shovelry, the little blue knight could sense his friend's general aura changing drastically._

 _The knight in black had changed so much that he basically turned into a different person. His constantly cheerful demeanor got lost in the flow of time, becoming an overly serious individual. It came to a point that any ghost of a smile never appeared, or if anything tugged at the corners of his lips he turned and stormed away._

 _His once friendly brown eyes became dull and fiery, inviting terror in other students. His sparring tactics became ruthless and unforgiving, following the code of training literally, word for word. The other students of shovelry were understandably frightened to the bones when they had picked his name from the drawlots bowl. It came to a point that disciples dropped out not in dislike of the art and teachings of Shovelry, but in fear of who they called 'the Black Knight'._

 _"What happened to you?" He asked the infamous disciple. After letting his guard down for him to get struck down, he uttered those words. His former friend only glowered at his 'friend' on the floor._

 _"I'm going to be the best in the Order." He crossed his arms. "Don't get in my way."_

"I'm not in the heavenly care of the gods, right?"

"I think we're both alive." She chuckled. "My arm hurts."

Too sleepy to realize what she actually meant with her last sentence, he decided to just close his eyes. "You saved me?"

 _As expected but not looked forward to, Shovel Knight found him already before the Tower's entrance door, shovel firmly within his grasp. Black Knight's midnight colored helmet barely concealed the hostile snarl marring his face. The cerulean helmet of the other hid shock, sorrow, and fury._

 _Before anyone spoke, each knight had the same thought in their minds._

 _'I thought we would be friends until the end of our lives.'_

 _However, they had different reasons._

 _'You idiot… how can you abandon your honor like that?'_

 _'You fool, can't you see your efforts are futile?'_

 _'If you truly love her like how I do, you will let me pass and find her!'_

 _'If you truly love her like how I do, you will wait until we find a way to get her out!'_

"No."

"Who saved me?"

Blue eyes met the gaze of creamy brown eyes as she lifted her head up and smiled sweetly, yet wistfully.

"Black Knight."

 _"Promise me you'll save him!" Shield Knight desperately cried out, her metal shield cracking from the force of evil magic pouring out in streams of purple. Black Knight immediately swooped in, diving and jumping away from rogue orbs of darkness. His heart pounded and he broke a sweat in urgency for the first time in ages. When he reached his former friend, he almost doubled over in exhaustion._

 _"Shovel Knight." He panted, immediately grabbing the other's arm and carrying his fallen friend on his back. "I have you… buddy."_

 _He cast a last glance at Shield Knight before running out the exit._

Shovel Knight's mouth hung open at the mention of his rival's title.

He looked at his partner, and then smiled. A very faint memory came to him as he snuggled even closer.

 _Black Knight carefully trudged through the trail, making sure the blue knight he carried was still alive and comfortable. Shovel Knight let out a small moan and sucked in a deep breath. The lordless warrior sighed, the first traces of a smile appearing on his face for the first time in years._

 _"I'm still your friend, Shovel Knight." He muttered, looking at the direction of where the Tower of Fate was. "I haven't forgotten that pinky promise." He turned away and continued walking. "Even if we are tossed into the unforgiving jaws of fate, I'm still your best friend."_

"Black Knight, you idiot." He chuckled happily, staring up to the stars. "Of course we are still best friends."

 ** _Up next: L is for love._**

 _Translations, and if anyone knows fluent French please aidez moi:_

 _Désolé! – sorry_

 _Aidez-moi – help me_

 _Arrête! – stop_


	12. L is for love

_To Monkey999Boy: The entire reason for that part was to demonstrate that the Staff of Striking is your best friend when you come to the worst boss in Plague of Shadows, Propeller Knight._

 _To Angelmation: As for the general idea with the storyline, do you mean K is for knife's story or the entire AU in general? If it's the former, that's only one story. If it's the latter, then the idea is to develop each knight's backstory and personality with what the source material says (Specter and King are in a neutral area, so when their campaigns come out I will tweak some things to align with canon) and to be a supplementary reading to another Shovel Knight fanfic I'm [trying to do] working on, if I ever post it. Characters like Albrecht and stories of the knights would be carried over to that storyline. Thank you for that compliment! Glad people are reading the drivel I put up on the Netz and like it._

 _To ProwlerPercy and other Undertale fans: YES! However, that will be the last big reference to Undertale. I feltthat it was too heavy a reference :/_

 _And holy flying ship guys this made it to TvTropes' Fanfic Recs tab! I feel very happy! I am honored! :D Danke schӧn, merci beacoup, thank you very much! In honor of this milestone, I have created a tumblr where I can share some of the little details and thoughts I had while writing! You can see sneak peeks on future chapters, too! You can look for 'lkcsi' (NOTE: LKCSI) or go to my profile for the link. Layout may look crappy… and the choice of social media site is bad… and not all of the things I will probably post aren't Shovel Knight related… so you don't have to follow._

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for light._**

"So, I'm curious." Mole Knight broke the unsettling silence, producing a handy-dandy notebook from an armor pocket in case of awkwardness. "What do you think of the word 'hell'?"

"Zhe vord _'hell'_ in German means 'light'." Albrecht said, not looking up from the book he was reading. "It functions as an adjective. For example, ' _mein Zimmer ist hell',_ which means 'my room is bright."

"So… that's why you don't seem to fear anything." Mole Knight muttered. "Hell is bright."

Albrecht shrugged. "I do not really like to question my mozher tongue's rules. I fear many zhings, just so you know. Like questioning my language's choice of vords and watching Captain Propeller fall, but I'd razher just laugh as he screams."

There was a not-so-distant French groan when Albrecht said that. The halberdier just chuckled quietly and resumed reading his novel.

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for liquid samurai._**

"I'm aaaaskiiiiiinnnnggg." King Knight dragged the vowel sounds of 'asking' longer than necessary.

" _Huh?"_ The three Liquid Samurai raised their right brows in unison.

"Whaaat's sooonngg waasss thaaaat thiiiing siingiiiiiiing?" The monarch asked again.

There was an incoherent string of gurgling sounds between the three liquid men. They then faced each other and seemed to deliberate among themselves.

Propeller Knight tapped one of them on the shoulder. " _Salut!"_

The blue shifter's eyes formed a curved purple line that arced upwards. It raised a droopy hand and waved while saying something incoherent in a high-pitched voice.

"Huh. You looked cute for a moment." Mole Knight chimed in.

"Hello, hee!" Plague Knight said, picking up on what Propeller Knight wanted to do.

All of them, even the angry red swordsman, paused and waved in the same manner as earlier.

"Can you tell me where the stairs are?" Polar Knight murmured lowly.

The green archer made several garbled noises and pointed to the obvious flight of stairs on the group's right.

"They understand us." Propeller Knight snapped a finger. "But they do not speak our language!"

"I want to see what they'll do." Mole Knight stepped forward. "Repeat after me."

The three faced the archaeologist and listened attentively. " _Hai._ "

"Green." He said clearly.

" _Midori!"_ They 'repeated' in chorus. The archer even pointed to itself gleefully.

"I love you the most."

" _Daisuki sa!"_

"The sorrowful world."

" _Setsunakutte chikyuu."_

 _"_ Please."

" _Onigai!"_

"Thanks."

 _"Arigato!"_

"We can now say they understand us." Mole Knight concluded.

There was a loud babbling sound from the three liquid things, and they looked so happy doing it. They were beaming in their own little odd way. Mole Knight cast a confused glance at them, before chuckling a little.

"You can stop now." Mole Knight gently said, to which the three nodded to. As they went back to huddle in a small group circle, the archaeologist took out a small paper from his armor pocket. "I memorized a bunch of Japanese expressions."

"You're so crazily prepared." King Knight muttered.

"And now I am going to tell you that you should stop sounding like a whale to them." Mole Knight rolled his eyes at his teammate.

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for little baby._**

"We might have a baby at our midst!" King Knight rushed into the dining hall, his blond hair disheveled from the hair pulling he had done earlier. His brows were knitted together in a frightful expression.

"Oh my… King Knight, who is the unlucky woman?!" Propeller Knight dramatically dragged his fingertips down from his eyes to his chin. "Save her!"

"There's no pregnant woman if that is what you're thinking!" King Knight's voice raised an octave as he spoke fast as lightning. He then ran to Specter Knight's seat and bravely tapped on the apparition's shoulder. The phantom turned his head and stared right into the windows of King Knight's soul.

"What is it?" Specter Knight hissed.

"The Enchantress just revived you last year, right?"

"Precisely nine and a half months ago." Specter Knight tilted his head to his right. "Why?"

"SO YOU'RE ONLY NINE AND A HALF MONTHS OLD?!"

"Yes. Why? Is there a-" The apparition stopped speaking as soon as he realized what the flustered man was saying. His eyes widened for a moment before he let his brows furrow deep. He started to simmer in hot rage, his hands curling into fists as he softly counted from one to a hundred. There was a pregnant pause in the dinner table.

"Umm… so he's the baby boy?" Plague Knight piped up after long minutes of silence, pointing a tiny finger at the reaper.

The majority of the Order of no Quarter promptly laughed heartily, much to the Specter Knight's chagrin.

"Hee, would you like some milk?" "Do you want to sleep now, baby boy? I can sing a lullaby! I lay thee down, so now and rest…" "He's saying his first words now! Say ' _maman'!" "_ M-m-mission accomplished!" "We have to change his diaper! I can smell shit in it!" "Language! There's a child!"

They all completely forgot that the 'nine-month old baby boy' had a very bad temper once mocked.

/*later in the Lich Yard*/

"Is there… anything you need, master?" His personal assistant trembled as she stood by his right side. Her hands were clasped behind her back in prayer. _Oh gods please help me he looks so angry I don't think anything can calm him down! My job is to calm him down, and I think I can't do it!_

Specter Knight only sat on his little throne, his left hand holding his scythe and his right glowing yellow and drawing circles in the air. He was quietly grumbling.

"I-I am here now, sir." She said a little bit louder. _I think he's angrier than the banana and the cat incident…_

"I want their souls, I want them all…" He mumbled.

"What do you need?" She repeated, plucking up all her courage to face her agitated master.

"I need all of them dead!" He banged a glowing fist on the arm of his throne, tiny yellow sparks dancing by his hand as he did so. "Is there anything left for me in my existence aside from cats and babies?! _They called me a cat and tried to put a hairband with cat ears on my head, then they call me a baby and attempt to pinch me like an infant!"_ He ranted furiously to his assistant, and proceeded to unburden himself of unfathomable rage through releasing angry strings of curses and serious death and mutilation threats. The poor aide could only stand there and cry.

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for love._**

Shield Knight and Shovel Knight were in a humble quite dilapidated inn in the middle of the stormy night. The lady's injured arm was already wrapped in bandages and was gently pressed by a warm damp cloth.

"Ow." She hissed as her partner pressed it a little too hard against her bruised shoulder. She flinched a little bit, and all her companion could do was freeze on the spot.

"Sorry." The little blue man mumbled, his bright eyes looking up at her face. She blushed at his cute gaze, and playfully slapped his hand when his stare at her face was getting too long.

"You're making me blush." She teased, pinching his cheeks.

A sharp knock disturbed the two's little moment. "Sir, madame, I have a package sent for you."

"Oh?" Shield Knight tapped a finger on her chin and looked up thoughtfully. "Who could have sent us a package?"

Shovel Knight put the hot cloth back in a bucket full of warm water and stood up. He strode to the door and opened the door. The innkeeper held a small parcel, wrapped sloppily in black paper and held together by a thin blue ribbon.

"Who sent it?" Shovel Knight asked in a soft voice.

The innkeeper just shrugged. "It was a small man in black armor. That's all I know. He was completely cloaked. I couldn't see his face."

"I see. Thank you very much." The little knight carefully closed the door and walked back to Shield Knight. He held the package out to her. "It doesn't have a name on it."

Shield Knight snatched the package with her good arm and bounced it up and down. "It's awfully light. I think cloth is inside."

"Which might contain another amulet and-"

Shield Knight shot him a glare and squeezed the package as powerfully as she could. The paper crinkled as she squashed it one-handedly. "I don't feel anything hard inside." She pulled at one of the ribbon's ends and removed it from the paper wrapping.

"Shield Knight, we should be careful-"

"Mhmm." She mumbled in reply, and pushed the paper's edges outwards to reveal what was inside.

It was a long red scarf, decorated with countless little golden snowflakes scattered all around. The ends of the scarf had long braids in gold yarn. Shield Knight peered at the scarf closer and glided her fingertips across the surface. The scarf had an uneven surface, and upon closer examination, it had irregular patterns of knitting and crocheting. A small smile tugged at her lips when memory linked the scarf's style to a certain _Polar Knight._

"Hey, Shield Knight." Shovel Knight picked up the paper wrapping and pointed to some white scribbles. "There is something written on it. I can't read it."

She glanced away from the scarf and to the white letters of another language. Tears of happiness started to pool at her eyes when she read the paper's single message.

"Shield Knight, are you alright?" Shovel Knight discarded the paper and wiped away the tears falling down her pink cheeks.

"No, I'm alright. It's… an invitation." She grinned cheerfully, and then wrapped the little blue knight in a bear hug.

Outside the inn, the small man in black pushed a boulder up to retrieve his obsidian and red armor and helmet. He put on his horned helmet last, and cast one last gaze to the humble inn before vanishing in the shadows.

 _We are leaving for home, Shield Knight. Would you and Shovel Knight care to join us?_

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for loss._**

"Long live the kingdom of Pridemoor!" The revolutionary knights cheered, raising their swords, lances, and bows up in the air in victory. In the midst of celebrations, some knights worked to quell the flames of war on some residences, grand halls, and shops. The Goldarmor knights marched away from the village's reach as fast as they could, with archers still shooting arrows tipped with explosives at them. Many of their shields got blown off from their metal arms, much to the glee of the revolutionists.

"Long live the rightful King!" They continued on, happy grins and joyful tears on the rebels' faces. "Long live the Seven Founders!"

Meanwhile, in the Keep of Pridemoor, King Knight stood in a balcony. He scowled at the large pillar of black smoke to the northeast.

"I lost another patch of land again…" He curled a hand into a fist and strode back into the dim hallways of _his_ keep. "Guards! Recapture! As punishment, increase the taxes! Slaughter anyone who disagrees! Lock the kingdom down, and strengthen border lines!"

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for life._**

The market village was electrified by the victory in their sister town, now called the Armor Outpost by the Revolution. Banners and streamers of assorted colors became strewn around and fixed to high posts. One can see the workers in bakeries, eateries, and taverns handing out food and beer in merry spirits. Children started to play ball with the knights who fought in earlier skirmishes, laughing and hugging their heroes' feet. Sweeping victories after victories were causing so much happiness within the refugees, and the only thing they cheer for was the Revolution to storm Pridemoor Keep and put the rightful king back on his throne.

Specter Knight, back in his human disguise, strolled by quietly as everything around him reeked of life and happiness. He held his scythe, disguised as a gray cane, loosely as he walked around to take in the merry-making all around him.

 _Have I not done anything for this to happen for me?_ He thought to himself, and scowled at the answer he knows by heart.

He came across a crowd around the leaders of the revolt in the village plaza. He stood quite close to the elevated stage and was able to view the seven knights seated on chairs just behind the old orator.

"… and in gratitude for your efforts and victories, may you accept our humble village's gifts of turkey, plaques, and well-tempered steel for armor and blades…"

"How lucky you are." The apparition whispered under his breath.

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for lost._**

It had been breaktime, just before twilight.

"The letters that we can get from the first letters in the mural are an 's', a 'c', and a 'p'."

Mole Knight had heard an old minion ask as they practiced for the students coming to the Lost City that time. There was the tour guide, with the entire linguistics department acting as surrogate students. He had lifted his helmet and put a cup of water to his lips.

"Give me some words that start with those letters!"

"Stab carrion powerfully!"

Mole Knight had almost choked on his water.

"Society of Creepy Perverts!"

The head archaeologist had stifled a chortle. "Oh gods…"

"Snakes, Crows, and People!"

"Sunny Cloud Project!"

"Sleepy Construction People!"

As the linguists started having their immature fun and poke at each other, all the knight had thought of was welcoming the young ones to the Lost City. Should things be grand or simple? Should he show them all the things the entire dig group was doing?

He had made sure everything would go on safely with the young students arriving for the week. He had stopped all demolitions and mapped all the places they would go. Students with bright futures were coming over, and he wasn't going to let them get buried under a possible accident. He even had a medical team spread out and standby everywhere!

And all those efforts would be nought if he couldn't find the lost group.

"Kids!" Mole Knight waved his bright torch around. The others, people from security, linguistics, anthropology, history, paleontology, hell, people from every damn department, echoed the calls.

He would wave the damn torch around until he finds the kids, even if it burns out.

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for library._**

 _It's my first day later_ , Albrecht thought in his mother tongue. He bit his lip, trying to hold his new gold and blue halberd tightly. Despite being handpicked as the best warrior in the kingdom, he shook in nervousness. He was going to be a big part of the friendship and alliance activity after intense antagonism between France and the German Kingdom, and there was no turning back. In exchange for his services for the French, his family would receive land and gold, something that his family would like. He hoped they won't forget him in the indefinite amount of years they would be separated. If the new master would allow it, he'd visit.

He tried to think of the French captain he would serve for years to come. Would he be the same as his superiors, who rules with an iron fist but with the tenderness of fatherly love? Would he be worse, an incompetent knight with only nobility to flaunt? He had heard of him, his new superior, Propeller Knight. He heard that he was born in a family of noble blood, one of the most powerful in France. He didn't catch the family name, though, but he knew he was heir to a high noble or something. Due to his inherited nobility and France's recent focus on tourism, he owned Europe's most luxurious transportation service, the Flying Machine. And the Germans 'fixed' the airship, adding a self-sustaining energy source, several more modern armaments, and a long list of upgrades. Wine included.

He heard that he would hit on ladies and flirt with them, that he had a _very_ lovely reputation amongst women. They also said he was one of the most arrogant and insensitive men alive. That remained to be seen… although the idea was scary. _I don't want to be stuck with a mean boss!_

He looked at his future master as politely as he could, and the rumors seemed to be true. Walking with his stern, iron-bodied superiors was a fair man in green and gold, a rapier attached to a belt on his hip. He wore a confident smile, exuding an air of openness. His long light brown hair was tied back with a golden ribbon, and he had striking hazel eyes. He was truly a man born with noble status, almost a prince.

" _C'est n_ _otre représentant."_ One of Albrecht's superiors chatted with the French knight, gesturing to him. The captain's hazel eyes scanned him from top to bottom. _"Il ne parle pas français."_

As illiterate as he is in French, he could understand that the decorated soldier regrets his inability to speak the language. Albrecht sank a little in his spot, trying to keep his straight composure. What else can he do? He wasn't so educated. He only was a schoolboy before he entered knighthood.

 _"Oh? Est-ce que cela ne vous dérange pas de travailler avec nous?"_ The Frenchman thrust his face out to him, and Albrecht involuntarily backed away.

" _N-non, m-monsieur._ " Albrecht sulked. " _Ich spreche Französisch nicht."_

"English?" He suddenly said, heavy accent tainting his speech. "Do you speak English?"

Albrecht brightened up a bit. "English… a little… it is fine."

The Frenchman grinned, and dramatically snapped his fingers. "Zhen English it is! I'll learn German, as well!"

Everyone else let out a gasp. Albrecht looked worriedly at the unfazed noble, who was looking proud of his decision. He was even striking a ridiculous pose! _What is wrong with him?!_

"I am honored… but… you cannot do that! Do not put status to danger. German is not-"

"SSH!" The knight shushed everyone with an air of authority, wagging a finger in front of his new lackey's rapidly paling face. "I will do as I please. I should be friends with you! 'ey. Guess what."

"… yes?"

"I'll 'ave a library set up in the Flying Machine soon. We can both practice by reading wholesome books!" He laughed, patting his new friend on the back quite powerfully. Pat. Pat. Slap. _Autsch_. Pat. Another strong pat. Pat. That was almost sickeningly nice. "We'll be great friends!"

"Uh, y-yes, sire." Albrecht stiffened like a statue when he felt the curious gazes of his bosses.

"So do not be so afraid!" Propeller Knight grinned, rubbing circles on his new underling's thin armor. "Trust me! I'm your new master now, _oui?_ Zhat's an order!"

 ** _._**

 ** _L is for lonely._**

The shore was so peaceful that night. The local breeze blew strongly, and the waves crashed down on the shore. The sea's terror, Treasure Knight walked alone in the deserted shoreline, a small wildflower in his big hand. He reached sandy soil, and walked deeper into the growing foliage. He passed by a tiny and decrepit hut overlooking the shore. He sighed. _They used to see the sunset together._ We _used to sightsee together._

A spirit followed him closely, its pale eyes looking up at the head of the knight.

"Greetings, Anthony." Treasure Knight muttered. His helmet was pushed up, seeing the small pile of stones better. A name was crudely carved on one of the stones, Anthony's name. Below the small cairn, inside a pit, was a tiny box, barely larger than his anchor arm. Anthony's little coffin still lay under it, housing the broken bones of a puppy dog barely over three years old.

As if a spirit could answer back audibly, he cracked a tiny wistful smile and chuckled sadly as he placed the wildflower on top of the flat stones. He sat beside the memorial, patting the top of the stones, just like how he would do to Anthony when he was _so much younger._ The spirit sat obediently beside him, almost not realizing that it was already _long dead._

"I apologize if I couldn't come sooner, buddy." He said softly. "I missed you."

The spirit dog jumped up and licked his face happily, wagging its tail, and all Treasure Knight was feel was a slight chill. He shrugged the cold feeling away, and sighed. Sensing the man's sorrowful expression, the spirit dog pat its right paw on the golden chestplate and licked his face, more determined than ever to relieve his sorrow.

"I could have saved you, Anthony. If only I had the money."

 ** _Up next: M is for marriage._**

 _Translations (I heard French people are the kindest when it comes to their language and I think it's one of the prettiest languages):_

 _C'est n_ _otre représentant_ _– he's our representative_

 _Il ne parle pas français – he doesn't speak French_

 _Oh? Est-ce que cela ne vous dérange pas de travailler avec nous? - Oh? Will you be alright to work with us?_

 _Ich spreche Franzӧsisch nicht – I don't speak French_

 _Autsch – ouch (isn't it obvious?! :c )_

 _When is putting foreign sentences needed? So that you can try to at least feel how other characters feel about a certain person… except for the Liquid Samurai when they're starting to become more verbose._


	13. M is for mercy killing

_To Monkey999Boy: Congratulations, you accurately pointed out just what I wanted to show with the knights! You missed Plague Knight, though. His story is about his plaguemaster past and just how much he did for Mona. So, Tinker Knight left to show. Did you not enjoy Propeller's story? Anyway, thank you very much! The Liquid Samurai are quite cute here, yes, but remember they're still the bad guys that captured Shield Knight back in E is for eggs benedict. The Staff of Striking is especially useful for achieving Bomb Economy if you want to do that. I also use Sparkler+Impact against Propeller, but if you bash him with Staff of Striking he dies faster._

 _Sorry for 9,000+ word count._

 _ **.**_

 _ **M is for makeover.**_

One of the most mundane but awesome perks of being a ghost was that he could change clothes and appearance at will, as well as temperature, but he didn't really feel like touching anyone. He remained ice-cold in his other form, and he liked how it was. He recalled the time he brushed a finger against a rebel leader's hand while she stopped to look at him, and let out a small deep chuckle.

Specter Knight had been feeling quite vain that day, and he immediately thought of improving on his human disguise's appearance. He thought of something less flashy but still fashionable enough to suit his tastes. Standing in front of a full-length mirror he found in a random house, he began combing his blond locks until his hair became more than silky soft and tied it back with a white band. Upon looking at his own reflection, his face looked charming and heart-racing, but it was marred with a deep scowl.

"I look too much like Propeller Knight." He growled, his thoughts plagued by the laughing face of the Frenchman, with his shoulder-length hair tied back. He ripped the ribbon off and started brushing his hair again. Part of him protested the entire ordeal of caring about his human appearance, but he shushed it.

He tied his hair back again, this time trying his old style, with some locks loose to frame his face. _Not bad_ , he thought to himself. He tilted his head to the side, staring blankly at his wonderful reflection. He then plopped his scarlet hat back on his head. He slightly turned to the right, and then to the left, and then nodded thoughtfully to himself. _Not half bad,_ he thought,settling on it as his actual final appearance. He left his deathly pale skin and red eyes alone.

He pulled at the new dark gray cravat on his neck, feeling up his throat with his gloved hands. His gloves were pearly gray with a silver bead sewn on it. He faintly remembered strong fingers wrapped around his neck and, with a frown, forced that memory out of his mind. He absent-mindedly pulled on the gray end of his right sleeve while trying to forget he ever thought about _that time_.

He smoothed his coat, which was shortened to just end before his knees, out of habit. He then glanced at his black pants. _How about I change the color to white? Surely it would look better since the boots are bla-_

"Freeze." A low female voice coldly said. "What is your business here, human?"

Specter Knight turned around and saw his personal assistant holding a rusty sword up at him, its sharp tip just an inch away from touching the tip of his nose. Her face was contorted in a threatening snarl, her teeth bared and eyes fiery. Her plain, sloppy hair was _finally_ combed properly. Her bangs were neatly brushed away from the face. Her dress was even changed from a plain flowing dress with a black and white maid outfit, the skirt having a white frilly cloth over it and still reaching below her knees fading away. He blinked again, and recalled her 'resume' when she had first talked to him.

" _I can entertain. I can fight, too, if you need someone to fight better than the skeletons. They're frankly mindless and brittle. You'd like some additional protection, right?"_

 _She was serious that time, but her clothes… is she smart enough to realize no one wants to be killed by an innocent maid or does she simply have horrible taste?_ He thought for a short moment. She still held the sword up even as he moved his face even closer so that the tip rested between his eyes.

"I thought you were too innocent and pure to be unable to hold a sword, my dear servant." He spoke in his normal gravelly and otherworldly phantom voice, smirking. "Drive that sword into my head for me."

She blinked, losing the flames in her eyes. She then lowered her sword. "Oh, it's just you, master. Good day!"

"Yes, yes, good day." He inwardly scoffed at her eternally cheerful greetings, floated up, and changed back into his reaper form with a twirl. "I was improving on the look of my human disguise."

"It worked. I thought you were a true human!" She gladly commented, putting the sword down on the floor. "It's so real!"

He laughed in amusement at her comment. "I have used this form thrice before, and I am proud to say it was enough." He floated to a place beside her at a polite distance. "You saw me a while ago. Do you have any comment on how I can look better?" He asked, briefly forgetting that she was the one who put him in a banana costume many weeks before.

"Hmm." She wondered aloud. "You look great."

"I suppose I cannot ask the opinion of someone who seems unable to say anything bad of me. You are terrified of me."

"No, no. I have a few criticisms! Even if I think you look _drop-dead_ gorgeous-"

" _Servant!"_ He screeched, his hands glowing yellow and bolting out to wring her neck. "Was that a _pun?!"_

She jumped back, narrowly avoiding his claws. "N-no! A-absolutely not! I am sorry! Please forgive me!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **M is for money.**_

" _Hi, Anthony." The young boy, dressed in tattered rags, rubbed the fur of his puppy dog. Anthony awoke, and then licked the boy's face fondly, tail wagging. A happy grin found its way to the boy's face._

" _Woof! Arf!" The dog happily barked, jumping around the boy and panting. The boy ruffled its furry head lovingly. The young dog wagged its tail happily while his owner and best friend played with its fur._

" _Anthony, you're so happy today! Good morning."_

 _As he ruffled the fur on his puppy's head even more, his stomach grumbled. He clutched his growling belly. "I'm going to find us something to eat, Anthony. Wait for me!"_

" _Arf!" The dog barked, and sat in place._

" _Good boy." He smiled before turning around and walking out of the dark shade of his makeshift house. He looked all around him as he walked. Gentlemen strolled by with their fancy canes, and wealthy ladies and children rode their horse carriages to move about in the town. His lips pursed, looking at a baby girl who was being cuddled on the lap of a teenage girl, probably her sister. He recalled that his parents had resorted to begging on the street for spare change and food, and died in the streets without honorable graves. They starved to death with pockets inside out. They rotted in the pile of unknown men, women, and children, only covered with a white blanket and sprinkled with powder that prevented the stench of death from worsening._

 _I wish I was taken care of…_

 _Before long, he chanced upon a shop selling meat and bread. His mouth immediately watered at the sight of cheesy and sugary pastries on display. Plain grain bread was in open baskets inside the shop, and he crept up to the building. He looked to the left, and then to the right. No guards roaming nearby. Only a man with an apron was inside, his back turned from the entrance of the shop and talking to a worker. The boy plotted. He would snatch a piece of meat lying on the table and steal a small basket of bread that was just by the door. He would do that as quiet as a mouse. With the thousands of times that he had stolen bread from various shops, he considered himself a little expert thief._

 _He tiptoed into the shop, took the meat, and then swiped the basket by the handle as he scurried out. However, the shopkeeper caught the movement of a small figure at the corner of his eye and turned his head to look. He briefly saw the little boy running out the door, and screamed for guards._

" _Thief! Thief! Someone stole bread!" The man rushed out, fist up in the air. "Scoundrel didn't have money!"_

 _The boy just ran away as fast as his legs could take him, cackling at the shop owner. "You bet I don't have money!"_

 _Everything blurred around the boy as he dashed through ignorant passersby and swiftly turned corners and entered alleys. Just a little while later, the boy returned to his makeshift house of old wood and thick cloth, sweaty and heart racing so fast from all the running. He laid the meat down before his puppy dog._

" _Here's your food!" He smiled as Anthony's tail wagged while munching on the tender meat. The boy put a piece of bread up to his mouth and wolfed it down. He ate one, and then another, and another, reveling in the taste of fresh bread so much that he didn't hear the heavy footsteps of the civil guard._

" _Eating stolen bread, eh?" A gruff voice said. The boy paused, his eyes wide and his heart pounding suddenly. A strong hand grabbed at his emaciated arm, pulling him up._

" _Let me go!" He yelled._

" _You'll have to go to the precinct, boy!"_

" _I don't want to!" The boy tried to pry his arm off the painful hold of the guard._

" _Well then, you should have the money to pay for the bread you stole. Do you have money to bail yourself out?"_

" _N-no. Let me go!"_

" _No, you have to come with us-"_

 _Anthony jumped up and bit hard on the guard's wrist. The guard let out a pained yelp, clutching his bleeding hand up close to his chest._

" _Kill that mutt!"_

 _The other guards proceeded to beat their staffs on the little puppy dog. But Anthony wasn't fazed by danger. He dodged one blow and the other, jumping up and barking threateningly at its master's assailants. Yet, despite the puppy's light frame and swift actions, it couldn't hold its own against grown men with swords and sticks. Anthony was felled by a lucky swipe of a baton to his back._

" _Anthony!" The little boy screamed. He ran to his best friend, scooped its broken body up, and bolted away from the civil guards, leaving behind a basket half-full of nourishing bread. The dog helplessly squealed in his embrace as he escaped the group of guards chasing them._

" _Anthony, stay with me!" He muttered as he jumped over obstacles._

 _The puppy wheezed._

" _Stay with me, buddy!" He yelled, running into a patch of trees, and running deeper into the cover of plants. But then, the puppy in his arms stopped moving and breathing. The little boy tightened his embrace around his best friend's body, tears beginning to form on his eyes._

 _Between trembling sobs, he only thought of one thing, the voice of the guardsman echoing in his mind._

 _If only I had the money._

 _The small boy put his dead puppy's bruised and wounded body in a small box he found by the bushes. He placed a small wild flower on his best friend, and, with a sob, closed the lid. He dug into the dirt with his filthy hands._

 _If I had the money, you'd still be alive by my side, Anthony._

 _When the pit was deep enough, he carefully placed the box into it._

 _If I had the money, I would be happy._

 _The boy gently tossed the dirt onto the box, covering the coffin of his only friend. He took some flat stones and built a small cairn on top with utmost care, and then crept back to the town. He picked up a large smooth pebble and bounced it up and down on one hand._

 _I'll get that money._

 _He chanced upon a single carriage, the footman nowhere to be seen. Not even a convoy of knights on horses was present. The carriage had purple and blue paint, with gold leaves decorating the outside. There were white curtains sheltering whoever was inside from the sunlight. The carriage's horses were standing idle._

 _The little boy stalked as quietly as he could to the carriage, looking around for anyone else. After assessing that no one else was nearby, he forced the carriage door open, his fingers bleeding from pushing his hands into tiny splinters and sharp corners. He was pretty sure a nail got torn off, but it wasn't important. There was an old man inside, dressed in a white and purple tunic. The little boy's eyes were locked on the box of gold within the man's hand and the loaf of bread on the other. He flicked his gaze up to the man._

" _Surrender your money to me, old man."_

 _But alas, the old man was unwise. "Coach-!"_

 _The boy instantly bashed the pebble on the old man's skull, hitting him repeatedly until blood flowed out in continuous streams. Like a pump of fresh water, the boy snickered._

" _I only said 'surrender your money to me'. You're so stupid."_

 _The old man's glassy and dead eyes stared at the boy's dark grin. He hopped off the carriage, got up the front and sat on the chair, and then whipped the horses. The horses whinnied and took off._

 _/**/_

 _Many long years have passed._

 _So many years have passed, and it was enough to etch a single message on a man's mind. A decade or so was enough to transform a small helpless boy into a merciless mercenary. Time and circumstance were among the most dangerous of forces._

 _And in that span of ten years or more or less, he became known as the Bounty Hunter. He became one of the richest mercenaries, if not the richest. He strolled by the town square with a bag of coins from his last bounty, and everyone cleared the way for him. People could still see the splotches of crimson on his gauntlet, and it stained the bag of silver he carried in his hand._

 _If only I was this feared before, right, Anthony? Maybe you would have died a peaceful death if things were this way for us back then._

 _The Hunter walked by a board, posters stuck to it and waiting for bounty hunters like him to take up the challenge. He scanned the posters, and mentally ignored the small-time thieves only worth 1000 gold, dead or alive. Useless scoundrels who were wanted but not worth the effort. His eyes fell on a large poster at the top of the board, stamped with the town's insignia and the margrave's coat of arms._

 _He paused in thought at the unusually large amount on the criminal, who was worth 2,000,000 gold, more than a million higher than the next person. This person, in fact, had the highest bounty placed on him, dead or alive, that the Hunter had seen in his life. He gazed into the drawing, memorizing the face of the man in case he wanted to chase this highly wanted fellow. This certain criminal had crimson red eyes, long blond hair, and quite the pale face. His description under the bounty price was 'tall and handsome, yet easily able to escape elite forces undetected. Exercise utmost caution, for his wit and deceit enable him to trick even the sharpest of royal soldiers. The majority of those who have fought him either died or could only barely live.'_

 _What a challenge, the mercenary thought, you must have done something so bad your bounty is in the thousands of thousands. He left the poster board for a moment, his belly growling angrily at him in reminder._

 _He went to a fruit vendor, who was already sweating profusely in the Hunter's mere presence._

" _W-what do you like, sir?"_

 _The mercenary knight scanned the fruits in his stall, and without a word, held out his bag of silver pieces and dumped it on the unsuspecting hands of the vendor. "I'm buying them all."_

 _The fruit seller was speechless. As he stammered his gratitude, the Hunter's attention was drawn to a squire and his mule riding down to his direction. The young lad on a pitifully small mule was carrying a scroll, quite a big one, by his hip, and stopped his steed by the bounty board. He watched as the squire tore down the poster he had been eyeing for a bit, and replaced it with a bigger poster. The Hunter almost gasped in sheer shock on what the replacement was._

 _It was still the same blond-haired and red-eyed man, but with three kingdoms' royal seals stamped on it, along with the coat of arms of the local margrave. The staggering amount of the current bounty on the man made his jaw drop to the ground. The price on his head could already liberate countries… and buy more nations' freedom. It could already sustain him for the rest of his life, and he could spend it on so much luxury!_

 _200,000,000 gold, strictly dead only._

 _After all of the fruits were tossed into a sack, the Bounty Hunter returned to his Iron Whale, and immediately took off to find and kill this man. His minions scrambled to search for clues, trails, anything that could be linked to the man._

 _After all, money is the single most important thing in the world._

 _ **.**_

 _ **M is for mask.**_

"Hss… a mask indeed. As befits a hollow, blustering fool!" Specter Knight harshly said, raising his scythe up. "You hide only from yourself!"

Plague Knight glared up at the phantom menace, eyes twitching and hands shaking. _Coward? Bah! This spooky ghost is so…. UGH._ "I'm going to prove you wrong!"

Specter Knight backpedaled as the small bird person bomb bursted towards him and pointed a finger at him. He could only utter the first thing that flashed in his mind. "This is unexpected. I already had a speech prepared."

"I'm going to MARCH back in the Potionarium, CONFESS to Mona, and SEE what happens!" Plague Knight screeched, barely containing the clusters of explosions in him. "I'm going to prove to you that I am NOT A COWARD!"

"Surprise me." Specter Knight replied flatly.

/*Flying Machine deck, some years later*/

"Plague Knight," The Bard boomed, gesturing to the hooded alchemist in a nice tux and vest, "do you accept Mona to be your wedded wife?"

"I do, hee!" Plague Knight grinned, looking at his French friend and best man.

Propeller Knight, dressed with an elegant suit and a rose in his breast pocket, clasped his hands together and wept shimmering tears of joy. "I'm so proud of you, _mon ami."_

"Mona," Shovel Knight gestured to Mona, "do you accept Plague Knight to be your wedded husband?"

"I do." Mona beamed.

"Through the power vested in _me_ by _me_ and the yacht gods, I now pronounce you man and wi-"

The wind suddenly blew too hard, taking with it several streamers and banners. Plague Knight protectively stood before Mona, arms outstretched and bombs in the ready. Fancy hairdos were destroyed, and hats flew away. Mister Hat screamed in horror and glee at the sight of flying hats _everywhere_ , requiring both Baz and Reize to prepare to cannonball over him again.

There was a dark chuckle as blood-red smoke appeared out of thin air and swirled around to a specific spot in the aisle.

Everyone stiffened in alarmed shock. Shovel Knight whipped out his shovel from the inside of his hammerspace suit pocket. Shield Knight stayed behind her partner. Propeller Knight clapped, and an entire army of Hoverhafts appeared at his call, with one of them instantly assuming a spot by the captain, chucking a rapier at him, and saying ' _was ist los'_. Mole Knight ripped his fancy suit off of him and flaunted his sharp digging claws. Tinker Knight jumped up, ran like hell with a wrench held aloft, and tripped on a heavy chair's leg. Polar Knight and Black Knight shook their heads as Tinker Knight pushed himself up and tripped, again, this time on his own feet. Knights scrambled, picking up weapons hidden all over the deck, like under the wedding cake, stuck under a spectator's bench, and inside the wooden podium on which the Bard stood on. These random fighters formed a protective circle around the bride and groom, their sabers up and bows aimed at the mass of red in the aisle.

"I knew this would happen." A disembodied voice laughed, as thick clouds formed over to darken the skies. Lightning flashed and thunder roared like the usual entrance of a certain spooky ghost. Indeed, he appeared in the aisle, crimson smoke still swirling around him in a sinister manner. Specter Knight did not have his supernatural scythe, but did have a maid with him wielding a rusty sword.

Specter Knight put a hand up over where his mouth could be coyly. "It appears I am not so late for the wedding. I am glad."

"Why are you here, spooky ghost?!" Plague Knight bellowed, shoving the knights surrounding them out of his path.

"First, I came here to greet you congratulations."

"This is ridiculous. Oftentimes the villain comes to ruin a party." Shovel Knight said.

"I do not want to ruin the party." The phantom shook his head. "I came here to protest."

"YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH MONA?!" A random guest screamed. Come to think of it, this guest didn't have much of an eccentric line of thinking. Specter Knight appears in the wedding and comments about not being late to the occasion and coming to complain, so he must be protesting the wedding in general but is just really tardy, right? Right? Riiiight?

"I knew I shouldn't have let Mona go to the Lich Yard every month!" Plague Knight squawked, and was immediately held back by Propeller Knight and Albrecht. "What did you do? _WHAT DID YOU DO?_ Did you do anything other than just 'playing'? What the actual _hell_ did you two _play_ -"

The girl in the maid outfit glanced up to the reaper. "Master, when I wasn't around, did you do anything fish-"

"I am here to protest the choice of best man!" Specter Knight immediately quelled all assumptions of his sudden visit while pointing a sharp pitch black finger at Plague Knight. "Why am I not your best man?!"

Mona facepalmed.

" _Because you are an unlovable, cunning, smelly, yucky, dead, edgy, evil ghost that comes to my wedding and ruins the vows!"_ Plague Knight yelled, fighting the iron grip the Frenchman and his lackey had on each of his arms. A bomb actually appeared from green smoke in his tiny hand. He managed to wriggle his arm out of Propeller Knight's hold, and prepared to chuck the bomb at the apparition.

" _Non, mon ami!_ Do not do it!" The Frenchman screeched.

He did it anyway. "Eat this, _spooky ghost!"_

Specter Knight, having been trained for years in Mona's flask game, swatted the primed potion bomb away with his shriveled hand. The bomb exploded above the frightened crowd, the cluster powder mixing with nitrogen triiodide. When the phosphorus ignited, the extremely powerful explosion had a very big supercluster of chain combustions. Everyone _except_ the two knights of death was affected by the boom.

" _I am the one who convinced you to confess to Mona exactly four years, seven months, and one day ago!"_ The phantom argued back, pointing to himself. " _I deserve to be at least invited!"_

"Well then, hee, I have a poem for you! Roses are red, violets are blue. Boo hoo hoo. _I don't like you_!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **M is for music.**_

Screams of pain and anger filled the dinner hall. Chairs and chicken were thrown all around the room. Alchemical bombs exploded, oversized blades were swung around, things got stabbed, and necks got strangled. The eight feuding knights all howled and whooped. It was probably one of the weirdest normal dinners in the history of the current incarnation of the Order of No Quarter.

The Bard magically appeared in the mess hall, accompanied by a swooning blue Liquid Samurai. The Bard, holding his holy lute, calmly walked to Polar Knight's tranquil corner. He pulled up an untouched chair before Mole Knight could pick it up and launch it at the blue shoveler at the other end of the table and then stood on the seat. He began to idly tune his instrument as the blue shifter happily pulled a piece of itself from its hand and willed that small piece to turn into a blue and black miniature piano. Once done, it pressed many of the lower keys. A very low and chaotic sound resounded from the piano, making the drunken warriors pause briefly.

"Good." Polar Knight muttered to himself. "Order comes."

The Bard cleared his throat, scanning the Order and the sole blue burrower. He then started to really play his 'magical orchestra lute', to which the blue thing played to.

" _Listen well as I tell you what hell would be…"_ the minstrel sang in a baritone voice, _"to start, the cook would be Tinker Knight! The face of the Order is Treasure Knight, the engineer is Polar Knight! The king is the tyrant King Knight! The lover is unfortunately Specter Knight (he's handsome though so if you dig that I can't complain), the properties guy is Plague Knight for he's also a hoarder, the head of finance is Mole Knight… and the slave chained to a wall is Propeller Knight!"_

The song ended with two low piano notes of doom.

"What." Polar Knight flatly said, a chicken leg dangling in his fingers.

" _Listen well as I tell you what heaven would be…"_ the Bard started to sing in a cheerful manner, followed by a series of power lute strumming, " _the cook is either Propeller Knight or Plague Knight! The face of the Order is Polar Knight! The engineer is Tinker Knight, obviously! The king is the real king… but hey, Mole Knight makes for a great advisor! The lover would be Propeller Knight, the finance guy is Treasure Knight, the properties would go to Specter Knight… and the slave chained to the wall is naturally King Knight! Yahoo!"_

The room went pitch black. This time, it wasn't a certain spooky ghost who turned off the lights. And when the lights went back on, both the Bard and the Liquid Samurai were gone. The sober ones, namely Polar Knight, Specter Knight, and Plague Knight all stared at the empty chair in disbelief.

"I… have no comment." Specter Knight shrugged. _Hell is where I am the lover? Heaven is where I am the keeper?_ He sucked in air and expelling it like the living as he shook his head.

"Hee, that's my cue. Bye!" Plague Knight lied, laughed, and disappeared in a poof.

 _ **.**_

 _ **M is for meta.**_

The crowd was fidgety and excited for the results of the Dig the Vote election.

 _'Propeller Knight seems to be one of the frontrunners! Remember?'_

 _'... in life he was Banana Knight, in death he is Specter Knight! Long undeath to our spoopy knight!'_

 _'Banana? What the…?'_

 _'King Knight rules!'_

 _'I swear I will clobber you when you make another pun.'_

"Alright, people, settle down now!" The Bard barked with charisma, pausing as the masses fell silent. "Thanks."

Shovel Knight awkwardly shifted in his seat as the Bard, someone who _totally_ does not have supernatural power, unrolled the sheet of paper which contained the names of the knights he would most likely go adventuring with. He certainly wasn't looking forward to constantly seeing the evil and terrifying knights gathered before him, but if that was what the gods of the yacht wanted, he would be glad to serve.

There were three things he noticed odd in the crowd – King Knight looked more audacious and confident than he usually was, Propeller Knight wasn't wearing his odd but practical helmet, and Mole Knight seemed to be in clean, dirt-free armor for the first time in his life. How peculiar.

"Okay, people, the three knights Dug and Voted are the following." The Bard glanced at the paper for the first time, reeled back a bit, and finally spoke. "This one's weird as hell. Ballot stuffing…" he murmured, "third in place is King Knight."

Shovel Knight observed King Knight casually strut to the small chair to his left. He caught a glimpse of the malicious twinkle in the dandy's eye as he sat beside him. His instinctual gut screamed something awful about it, but as the problem with guts, they do not point out what and why exactly. He watched the other members of the Order hoping they'd make it in, except for Plague Knight, who appeared to be praying for the opposite fate.

The minstrel resumed after a half-hearted applause from the crowd. "Second is – drum roll please – our alchemist, Plague Knight!"

The tiny alchemist gasped in shock and terror at the mention of his name. He froze in his seat as the magical spotlight shined upon him, his heart beating faster and faster at the feel of everyone's gazes on him. He weakly stood up, walked to the stage desperately trying to avoid a heart attack, and sat on the chair to the left of King Knight. Shovel Knight readied his trusty shovel lest the poor frightful scientist abruptly lose it and make things explode.

Propeller Knight was smiling brightly, trying to encourage his shrinking bird friend, but it was already faltering as his chances were narrowing with each call. Plague Knight trudged awkwardly to the stage, fingers twiddling. He looked up and locked gazes with a certain tall woman on the balcony seats, and then felt a bit of confidence surge in him.

"Well, the first in place is somewhat unsurprising."

The crowd fell silent. Propeller Knight clasped his hands tighter the longer the silence ensued.

"First place is… a shoe-in, actually. It's Specter Knight!"

Propeller Knight's eyes widened in disbelief. Mole Knight, who was standing beside him, gasped audibly. Tinker Knight raised his arms up abruptly, as if to question the winners. Specter Knight gracefully floated up to the fabulous chair to the left of Plague Knight, sitting comfortably on it.

The fencer looked at King Knight, who only snickered at him.

" _I burned your votes."_ The fraudster mouthed to him.

Propeller Knight felt a knife stabbed and buried deeply in his back, his mind recalling the fun things he'd do with King Knight. The time he was in a dress and chased him, the time they had this fashion competition… the contests meant for laughs between them had unknowingly turned sour and unhealthy.

"Propeller Knight was so close at fourth place." The Bard announced. "Next at fifth is…"

" _Pourquoi…_?" Genuine emotional tears threatened to flood the eyes of normally upbeat Frenchman.

"Oh, gods." Mole Knight cursed softly as he saw tears streaming down his carefree teammate's face. He patted his shoulder sympathetically as he glared at someone to hand the crying knight a handkerchief. His free hand shot up to catch the attention of the sobbing man's best friend, Albrecht. Tinker Knight pushed his mask up, revealing a tiny face contorted into a snarl at King Knight.

From the balcony overlooking the stadium, Albrecht noticed the archaeologist's claws raised upwards and waving. He could faintly see his superior beside Mole Knight. He flew off the balcony railings and hovered to the front carefully. As soon as he saw the Frenchman slightly tremble and his hands cupped over his face, he immediately dove to them.

"Hey." Albrecht frowned worriedly at his friend, and patted his back and shoulder. The only answers he heard were quiet sobs, and then he glared towards the knights immediately around him. "Vhat happened here? _Vhat happened?!"_

"I think King Knight cheated in the election." Mole Knight tactfully stated. But alas, the mere mention of it made Propeller Knight cry harder.

"C-can I just give up my place for Propeller Knight?" Plague Knight shyly raised a tiny hand. "He wants and deserves a place, hee."

King Knight almost bashed his scepter at the alchemist. If it weren't for the blue burrower's fast thinking, Plague Knight would need a new mask. Both the other knights tensed in the sudden display of hostility. Plague Knight jumped and summoned vats of explosive liquid to materialize all around him.

The Bard shook his head. "I'm sorry, but Ya-"

"I DON'T LIKE THIS!" Tinker Knight bellowed loudly, climbing up to the stage to the best of his ability. "IT'S FINE WITH YOU LOT," he gestured to the alchemist and the apparition, and then pointed an accusing finger at King Knight. "BUT YOU!"

"Leave him alone _, mon ami_." Propeller Knight softly said, wiping his tears away with his sleeves. He slouched in his posture. Before he turned away, he faced Albrecht with a forced smile and placed his hand on his shoulder. " _Si'l vous plaît_ , be my representative for the night."

" _Was_?!"

"I know you can do it." He simply said, before slipping his hand off him and turned away.

The rest watched him quietly walk out of the hall. A feeling of dread befell most of the other knights, looking at their comrade, who was previously nigh-impossible to bring to any emotion like sadness, lifelessly walk out and away, periodically bringing his hands up to wipe his tearstained cheeks. The crowd separated to make way for him.

"I gotta go and ask what to do." The Bard quickly ran out.

"Don't you think I'm done with you!" Tinker Knight hopped onto the stage, wobbled a bit as he stood up, and jabbed a finger at King Knight's golden chestplate.

Albrecht felt a tap on his back. He tore his faze away from his superior's disappearing figure and looked at Mole Knight.

"Has this happened before?"

Albrecht sighed, recalling his first months as Propeller Knight's underling. He cringed at the memory. " _Ja._ It is never pleasant to see him like zhat."

 _ **.**_

 _ **M is for marriage.**_

 _"Come! Meet my family! Just for today!" Propeller Knight, dressed in elegant garb, grabbed Albrecht's wrist. The halberdier moaned in protest as he was dragged into a crowd of well-dressed gentlemen and beautiful ladies, feeling underdressed with only his everyday armor. Many scrutinizing gazes were drawn to him and his lightweight but strong halberd, and it only intensified when his boss stopped to gracefully pour champagne on a guest's glass. He did the hard 'thumb in punt of the bottle, fingers out' style of pouring!_

 _Before any of that happened, the Flying Machine's captain had ordered the crew to set a course for his home. He had been happier than normal. The idea of coming back home after a long time out of France had made him very glad, and no second passed that he slipped out of high spirits. Every day meant another day closer to home._

 _And there they were. In a week, they were in France, welcomed by merry celebrations. This was one of the more extravagant celebrations, right inside the captain's family estate._

 _"Uh, sir-"_

 _"No formalities now! You're meeting my family today! Don't be so shy! Think of it as practicing your French! I'm here. Trust me and stop worrying."_

 _"But it is family! I cannot meet your family. I am only zhe German Kingdom's represe-"_

 _"Zhat is exactly why you are coming to meet my family!" He pulled harder. "Come on! Everyone will be glad to meet you!"_

 _Albrecht winced at the painful imaginary needles already poking at his hand. "_ Warum _?"_

 _"Zhey get to meet zhe best of zhe German army!" He beamed. "It's an honor for zhem! Trust me!_ Papa! Maman!"

Tschüss bis dann, meine Würde, _the Hoverhaft thought as an old couple, both dressed in lovely white and green, turned to face Propeller Knight's calls._

" _My son!" The old woman smiled and held her arms out wide open. With a happy smile, Propeller Knight embraced his_ maman _closely. Albrecht sighed at his master._

" _I missed you,_ maman, papa _."_

" _We missed you, too, my little boy." The father grinned._

" _I'm not a baby anymore. Oh! I have zhe kingdom of Germany's representative wizh me now!"_

" _Before that, let me show you to someone. I think you'd like her!" The mother sweetly smiled. Albrecht caught a certain glint in her eye, and his gut churned at the sight. He held her son by the wrist and led him across the hall. Albrecht was forced to follow, walking as dignified as he could with piercing stares from ladies and gentlemen. The group of four stopped before an elegant lady in a light blue evening gown. Her makeup was thin, and yet it only served to accentuate her beauty. Propeller Knight walked up, kissed the lady's hand, and crooned flirty phrases. Albrecht shook his head at his friend's unavoidable flirting._

" _You look magnificent, my lady." He said, and blew a kiss to her. She giggled._

" _I'm happy you two seem comfortable!" The mother suddenly interrupted, clasping their hands together. "I almost thought you wouldn't come together until the marriage!"_

 _The girl only blushed. Propeller Knight frowned, eyes wide in surprise. Albrecht let out a quiet 'oh no'._

" _Quoi?"_

" _We are marrying you off to the daughter of the duke, my son." The old man calmly replied. "Did you not know?"_

" _Pourquoi…?" The captain pulled his hand away from his mother's grasp and from the touch of the lady. "I assure you, belle, you are not zhe reason for everyzhing. I just do not agree wizh all zhis. I want to marry on my own volition, not by arrangements!"_

" _You are noblesse d'épée! We have raised you for this purpose, young man. Has the concept of liberal romance gone all the way to your head? Unacceptable! You are starting to forget your duties."_

 _The young noble let his anger show. "I'm leaving." Propeller Knight announced, and turned away._

 _With a snap of the old man's fingers, the armed guards surrounded the young captain and his friend. The usually cheerful man's face darkened somewhat. When two guards grabbed his arms, he called out the name of the only one he knew would stand by him, (and was literally just a few steps from him, trudging his way to him in alarm) the name of his Hoverhaft friend._

" _Albrecht!"_

 _The guards holding him pushed his head and arms down and began pulling him away. He stumbled a bit, the force of the guards overwhelming his light body._

 _Albrecht, hearing his master's urgent shout, flew up with his weapon in the ready. The guests, noticing the hostile stance of the Hoverhaft, immediately moved away._

" _Guten Abend, dummk_ _ӧ_ _pfe." He said coldly._ _He held his halberd up behind him and dashed forwards. The captain ducked low as the blunt edge of the pole weapon struck the helmets of his captors. They fell unconscious on the floor like ragdolls, and then Propeller Knight rubbed his arms as soon as the vice-like grips of the guards came off._

" _Zhank you very much." Propeller Knight rubbed his arms._

" _Behind me." Albrecht said. His master immediately moved to his back, grabbing his rapier and parrying dagger. More and more guards surrounded the two, ready to overwhelm them by the numbers._

 _The old man grimaced. "You forced this on me, my son. As embarrassing as this may be… capture him!"_

 _The guards immediately lunged forward quickly. Albrecht then rushed to meet the incoming enemies head on, repulsing attacks fiercely. The gift of flight allowed him to move quicker and higher, disabling the guards effortlessly and cleanly, that all every guard did was to concentrate attacks on him. He sent many of their numbers to the ground with broken swords and dented armor just with quick swipes and aerial advantage. Reinforcements approached, and he was quickly becoming overwhelmed with the amount of sentries attacking at the same time. The tip of a sword grazed his exposed arm, drawing blood. He was already beginning to feel his arms going numb from so much swinging and thrusting. He zipped close by his master, who was already fighting on the ground, and kicked his assailants away. a_

 _A plan to use his delegate status suddenly occurred in his mind. He landed before his master, propeller blades behind him turning around threateningly and planting his halberd on the ground._

" _Ich bin der beste Krieger aus dem deutschen Reich!"_ _Albrecht promptly shouted at the top of his lungs, stressing the name of his homeland._ _" Propeller Knight ist mein Meister. Ich werde ihn schützen bis ich sterbe!_ _Vergesst nicht!"_

 _The sudden announcement in the foreign language halted anyone from approaching._ _The parents even held their breath, staring at the halberdier, not realizing he was the German representative their son was proud of until he spoke._

" _Albrecht, what are you doing?" Propeller Knight whispered._

 _He only gave him a short look that only said 'keep quiet' before facing the sentries again. "Hurt him and you vill have zhe German Iron Army at your gates."_

 _The old man frowned. Putting a finger on his own son would endanger relations between the kingdoms of France and Germany. He then begrudgingly ordered his guards to retreat and let them go. The guards trickled away one by one, lowering their weapons, but keeping their sights on them. Propeller Knight cast one last glance at his parents and then turned away with a heavy heart. Guests in the party shot the two a mix of worried and disgusted glances. Albrecht placed an arm on his shoulder and patted it gently._

" _Don't mind zhem. As long as I am here, no von vill harm you."_

 _The captain didn't speak once after the entire thing. He only ordered the crew to fly immediately out of his parents' land and go anywhere, and then retired to his quarters. Albrecht felt the crew grasp the gravity of the situation, and while they wondered what bothered their captain so much his happiness disappeared, they just followed the orders and halfheartedly set their course back to the border between France and the German Kingdom. They asked the German as tactfully as they could on what happened, and he discreetly let them know._

 _The next day came about quite… unwell._

 _Albrecht and the rest of the crew eyed their boss closely, as if trying to memorize every tremble, every twitch he did. The captain kept up greeting everybody a good morning, even saying 'Guten Morgen' to the German halberdier. He still had this annoyingly sunny smile, but then it was different, like shadow had come to his bright life._

 _He stayed close to him, and that was when he noticed just how deep the wound on the captain's heart was._

 _Propeller Knight had been bringing his breakfast of tea and bread to his quarters. He was so occupied with haunting ghosts of the night before that he uncharacteristically bumped into a corner as he made a turn to his chambers' corridor. The expensive cup of tea was on the cold hard floor as broken porcelain with a pool of translucent green liquid._

 _Albrecht stared worriedly at Propeller Knight, whose brows furrowed slightly, fingers trembled, and hazel eyes glazed with tears._

 _ **.**_

 _ **M is for message.**_

 _To the gracious captain of the Flying Machine_

Eight words written in lovely cursive script. That was all that was written on the intricate purple envelope. No return address, not even a name. Literally every other envelope had a woman's name on it, but this one stood out from the others. Albrecht did all sorts of odd things as he investigated this suspicious 'fan letter'. He held it up against the light, tried to peep into it, shook it, and even bent it. Amongst the things he learned were that it was basically sealed shut and the letter inside was short compared to the life stories on the others.

As if sensing the doubt in the atmosphere, Propeller Knight walked up to his lackey and looked over the latter's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Zhis is a suspicious letter." The German replied.

"How suspicious?"

"Does not have a name, a return address, and zhe message inside appears to be short… or just written the size of sand grains. And not to mention, it's impossible to open zhis."

"Give it to me." He half-snatched, half-took the purple envelope and tore the paper. He pulled the slip of paper out, quickly scanned its contents, and sighed. He handed the sheet of paper back to Albrecht.

"H-hey-"

"Albrecht." He mumbled. "Read it and tell me what you think."

Albrecht shot him a look of confusion before glancing down at the letter. He gathered his knowledge of French and read it to the best of his ability.

 _My son,_

 _It has been years since we last saw you. We only heard of you again when your name was among those in the Order of No Quarter. News has reached France that you have joined, but you have no blood in your hands as a member. We hope you have not gone down the path of villainy._

 _France may not be the same place for you anymore if you come back at a later time. Everyone will think that you have chosen to become a member. So much will happen. You will lose your privilege and title. None of us, none of your friends still here believe that you have become a terror out of spite. We may have made the mistake to force love in you, and we are utterly sorry for what we have done to you, my son. I love you. I know you believe that love cannot be forced into others. It is hard to believe in such ideas for most of us, but I love you more than I love everything else._

 _I don't believe that you are now a spiteful man, a broken shell of the baby I know._

 _Please come back and prove you are still the same man._

 _Maman._

 _ **.**_

 _ **M is for mercy.**_

Specter Knight wanted to cackle at and berate King Knight that day. He was floating in the middle of Pridemoor's throneroom and yet the irony of the entire ordeal made him want to break out in cruel laughter at the usurper.

"I want you to assist me in crushing this rebellion." King Knight had begrudgingly said to the reaper, sinking into the cushion of his throne with each word he said. There had been not a time when he sought the help of any other member of the Order of no Quarter for anything directly involving his rightful kingdom. And since Specter Knight was one of the knights close to Pridemoor and that he would be both vital and instrumental to the immediate collapse of a well-organized revolt, he was so far the best bet, even if he hated the ghost and his peculiarity.

"I am not interested in aiding in its destruction." The phantom menace shook his head and turned to leave. "After all, the Enchantress has specifically ordered me to leave you to your own problems." At the corner of his eye, he spotted swift movement in the shadows. When he turned to actually look at it with his undeath's vision, he saw the telltale gleam of hidden blades and the billow of dark navy cloaks decorated with spears and swords crossed over gladiolus flowers. _How ironic that the rebellion is actually here._ He studied their faces in the shadows. Five was there, flanked by two other men. The young man on the right had amber eyes and dark hair, and the left one had silver hair and old brown eyes. He heard the whispered conversation between the three.

"Six, this is the throneroom. The prisoners are somewhere down here." The young man with the amber eyes said to the old fighter as the three moved behind the moving metal men standing guard for King Knight.

"Seven, where is the secret entrance?" The silver-haired man whispered.

"It's somewhere behind the throneroom."

Specter Knight projected himself behind King Knight, and nodded slightly to himself. There _was_ a secret tunnel that opened behind the throneroom and extended steeply downwards.

"You do know well that me losing power over this kingdom spells the first stages of doom for the Enchantress, the Order, and _you?_ " King Knight spoke clearly, half-surprising the reaper.

"The Lich Yard is mine, and mine _truly_." He emphasized his last word with a small gesture of the hand. He looked away from the rebels and split his attention to King Knight and to the stealthy insurgents. "I am only interested in protecting my territory, as well as happy to oblige to the Enchantress' orders."

King Knight almost wanted to claw his eyeballs out. He wanted to scream that he was _desperate_ , he is _king,_ and his word is law. "What do you want in exchange for helping me?"

Specter Knight felt the three move fluidly from the room itself to the back door. "I have no interest in such."

"What will make you interested?"

 _When you finally realize your enemy is right behind you_ , he almost snapped."When you become at least a thousand times less cunning as I am."

King Knight's jaw hung in confusion at what Specter Knight just said. He didn't hear the opening of a stone door and the pitter-patter of boots running down the tunnel, and right into an abandoned dungeon.

"Tell me," Specter Knight floated up and curled his legs as to appear to sit in air, "why do you think I can help you?"

King Knight sighed. "You are intelligent in war, and you know it very well yourself. You… are better than me."

The phantom wished he could say, 'you are kidding me'. _The most narcissistic and arrogant knight in his team admitting he was better than his royal highness?_ He smirked. _How easy it is to play with everyone like marionettes. I am the grand puppetmaster, and another doll joins my collection._

"You are desperate, King Knight." Three separate trains of thought started running in full steam in the reaper's mind as he said it. He paid attention to King Knight, felt the three descend down to a damp and dark dungeon quicker than he thought, and thought of how he had virtually everyone under his control.

"Don't tell anyone else."

He let out a dark laugh. "Predictable."

"What do you want in exchange for helping me?"

Specter Knight kicked his legs playfully just to spite the usurper. "I will do as I want."

"If you want their souls, then take them."

"Oh, yes I will." He 'stood up' and hovered closer to his teammate. "I will still honor the Enchantress' wishes to let you deal with your own problems. I will assist whenever and however I please. I will not send any forces to combat your _little_ problem, but rest assured I might want to play with its leaders. In exchange… do not interfere with what I want to do."

"Sounds like one of the easier requests." He waved his wrist. "You have my word."

"If I may give you advice, lower their resolve first." He said as he turned to leave.

"I already did!" King Knight beamed, making the apparition pause. "Lower their morale, you say? I have dungeons right below."

Specter Knight shifted his full and undivided attention to the three rebel leaders, frowning slightly. They were staying still in one place as they planted things on the door. He scanned the area, and was immediately flooded with the presence of death and disease. "What did you do?"

"You might want to see. I'd think it will interest you."

He disappeared with a swirl of cloth and materialized just behind the three. He remained invisible to them. Souls of the restless immediately saw him, and scrambled to every nook and cranny that wasn't his general presence. They watched him and the three leaders in a mix of fear, sadness, and joy.

The amount of disquieted souls surprised him so much.

The three rebels suddenly ran from the door separating them from the room beyond, and then the small goo stuck to the door with makeshift fuses attached exploded quite loudly. The explosion blasted the door to oblivion, and when the dust settled, the three emerged from their cover and entered the dimly lit room. Five grabbed a torch from the wall and illuminated the dim room as they entered.

The sight that greeted them was like a small glimpse to hell.

Specter Knight got quite shocked that King Knight was able to do this. It was something he had seen and partaken in numerous times anyway, but he had never thought the gilded goob would actually be willing.

"Have mercy." An emaciated shell of a former man muttered frightfully at the light.

Five thrust the torch to Six and crouched down to the grimy sack of flesh and bones. She reached out a hand to the fearful face of the man as tactfully as she could, who whimpered and inched away from her.

"I'm not going to hurt you." She cupped the hollow cheeks of this man.

The man looked up at her. "Five? You're saving us?"

"Yes. We are saving you."

"Have mercy." He repeated, his voice filled with hope. He gestured to his feet, which had no skin on the underside. "Have mercy."

Six lifted the torch and lit the lamps in the room. With every lamp appeared dead and decomposing bodies with the gaunt faces of familiar soldiers. Every single one still alive was sickly pale with the plague of impending death. Pained moans could be heard every now and then. Limbs were either missing or necrotic. Gangrene* consumed the flesh of the breathing.

"But there's no one to save here." Six muttered to himself as he glanced at the hopeful yet hopeless eyes of their tortured soldiers.

"We will grant you mercy." Seven announced, unsheathing his sword. "Thank you all for your valuable service to the kingdom."

 _ **Up next: N is for night.**_

 _ ***Warning: If you don't know about gangrene, do not look up gangrene on the Net.**_

 _Translations and oh boy did I have so much fun that I never needed a dictionary this time_ _:_

 _Tschüss bis_ _dann, meine Würde – 'til then, my dignity_

 _Guten Abend, dummk_ _ӧ_ _pfe –_ _good evening, idiots [lit. dumb-heads]_

 _Ich bin der beste Krieger aus dem deutschen Reich! Propeller Knight ist mein Meister. Ich werde ihn schützen bis ich sterbe! Vergesst nicht! – I am the best warrior from the German Kingdom!_ _Propeller Knight is my master. I will protect him until I die! Do not forget! (inspired by APH Prussia, I admit)_

 _Noblesse d'épée – basically a noble of descent and sworn to loyalty to the king and serve in the military, but keep in mind that this fic does not parallel much with the real world._

 _Oh yeah, Specter Knight's handsome face was chosen to be the memorable poster boy of Bounty Prizes Magazine. I'll leave it up to you if he was actually killed by that._


	14. N is for night

_To Monkey999Boy: I'm also speechless by the reactions to this chapter. I might have traumatized at least one reader for the rest of their Shovel Knight life, too. Thank you very much, dude c:_

 _Sorry for updating quite late. I have 'summer' classes with very heavy workloads. Much of my free time from immediately after M was devoted to school-related duties. My blog for this also needed some serious content since I felt obligated to a new friend of mine._

 _And has anyone really noticed how I never mentioned any of the Knights' names in this AU? Should I at least give them the names I have running around in my head?_

 _Also, I can't decide on the name of this AU – Alphabets AU sounds so apt and uncreative. Among the ideas I have are "Dolorous" (pertaining to the real nature of this series), "Forlorn" (ditto), "Feigned" (pertaining to how I made this 'fic look like a complete joke), and "Foundation" (since the source material is the 'foundation' and I built upon it to make this AU). Personally I like "Foundation" but give me ideas please._

 _ **.**_

 _ **N is for noise.**_

How long had it been since the apparition had a good shut-eye moment? Apparently it had been ages since he did anything remotely close to sleep since _that_ _tragic day when he just wanted to go out and look for a friend-_

" _AAAAH!"_ A high-pitched screech belonging to a surprised king resonated through the hallways of the Tower of Fate.

"SHHH!" "Specter Knight seems to be sleeping you dumb oaf." "Respect the resting!" "Shh! Shut the fuck up!" "Watch your language!"

Specter Knight opened his eyes and started moving his head around. "What happened?"

Propeller Knight groaned. " _Merde._ That scream was enough to WAKE UP THE DEAD. _"_

Six out of eight knights gasped in unison. King Knight put his hands up over his mouth. Mole Knight could only look away. Plague Knight stared in fright at the two knights sitting in the middle of the table, leaning backwards. Tinker Knight' arms shot up. Treasure Knight lifted his diving helmet up, revealing a face contorted horror and concern. Polar Knight stoically bit into a turkey leg and ripped the meat off the bone, watching Propeller Knight warily.

The Frenchman only shrugged the silence, and sipped his rosé wine. " _Quoi?"_

"Hrrrrrg." Specter Knight growled lowly. He began to float ever so slowly to his French seatmate, claws gradually going for the kill.

Propeller Knight tensed. "I… made a pun? Specter… Knight? Pun?"

He twitched his head to his left, only to be greeted by the sight of an enraged ghost that hated puns. He then put his hands up and inched away from the pissed apparition, hazel eyes wide.

" _Je suis désolé! Désolé! Sorry, sorry!"_

 _ **.**_

 _ **N is for nightmare.**_

King Knight's sleepy eyes cracked open, then widened when he saw a figure looming over him. In the dim moonlight, he could see the silhouette's bright white eyes and teeth in a psychopathic smile. The figure's left appendage raised, and King Knight stared in horror at the sharp dagger gleaming ominously.

"Good night and sweet dreams in hell, _your_ _Majesty._ " A deep voice of a woman echoed from the being of shadows. A bead of cold sweat formed on the usurper's temple. "This is for my soldiers…"

"No, no, please don't kill me."

"Death comes for you," the figure vaguely gestured to his side, "and the queen."

The terror in King Knight's soul vanished abruptly. He furrowed his brows in confusion. "Queen? What queen?"

He saw the psychopathic smile on his assassin's 'face' disappear in the blink of an eye. She pointed her dagger at the thing beside the pretender. "Queen. There she is."

As if on cue, the person beside King Knight rose from the bed, the covers falling down. King Knight stared in abject horror at the sight of his 'queen'. His jaw fell off his face and his eyes as wide as pancakes. _How the hell did this person get into his kingly room?_

The queen was beautiful from behind, with silky and slightly disheveled long brown hair and emerald green clothing with gold hems.

"Argh… _qui es-tu…"_ the 'queen' said, rubbing sleepy eyes.

" _HOLY SHIP!"_ The monarch screeched.

Tired hazel eyes gazed into terrified golden orbs. Propeller Knight's glance then fell on the shadow woman instead, whose pitch-black hand was over where the mouth should be. A vague noise of stifled cackling could be heard from her as the Frenchman let out a high-pitched, girly scream. He even put his hands on either side of his face.

King Knight hollered with him.

And then he opened his eyes, screeching the holy boat's name. He bolted upright, fumbling around his king-sized bed for any Frenchman that might be under the covers.

No annoying Frenchman…

 _Good._

King Knight fell back in the covers and allowed sleep to retake its hold over him.

 _ **.**_

 _ **N is for night.**_

Shield Knight, stripped of armor and dressed in a decent red gown, flashed a cheerful smile to the innkeeper. The latter had approached her and returned her warm grin with one of her own.

"Good evening!" The shield maiden waved. "I apologize on behalf of my partner. He still is quite ill from our last adventure. We might have to stay for more weeks." She gestured vaguely to the direction of the room where Shovel Knight snored loudly in his tiny cot.

The old woman waved her wrinkled wrist. "Do not worry, dear child. I know what you two did for the Valley. You deserve rest."

"Thank you!"

"Also, dear, you have a visitor. He wants to speak with you in private."

"Oh?" She raised her brows. "How does he look like?"

"He is a very small person, as far as I can see!" The innkeeper put her flat hand on the level of her waist. "That is how tall he is."

Shield Knight's memory clicked. An image of a certain knight Shovel Knight's size but with dark armor formed in her mind. "Oh. I think I know him. Where is he?"

The woman smiled as the knight excitedly hopped off her seat. "Outside, dear. The night is misty, do not wander too far!"

The lady of war waved in acknowledgement. She almost skipped to the door and went out. The outside lamps were burning extra bright, she noted. And what do you know, just below a lamp on the corner was a short person wrapped quite sloppily in a beige trench coat! The sleeves were rolled to fit his short, stubby arms. The end of the coat could have functioned as a really long gown if it wasn't hastily cut off. She giggled, and walked to the man with a pleasant smile.

"Black Knight. How good to see you!"

"SHH." The man's obsidian-covered hand shot up from a thick sleeve. "Don't let them hear it's me."

"Alright, alright." She chuckled. "Why did you want to talk to me?"

Suddenly, Black Knight's head, or at least what could be seen as his head, stared down at the cobble floor and shyly kicked a pebble. There was a pregnant pause between the two before Shield Knight muttered again.

"Hey."

Black Knight swayed in his place, pointing his foot up and swinging it idly. He looked at the stone floor, not glancing at the tall lady's face. "I just wanted to ask if you two would be coming home this autumn. For winter."

Shield Knight chuckled at him with a wistful smile. "I want to come home for winter."

"That's good." He huffed in a tone he would normally use. This only made her chuckle a bit louder.

"Tell Polar Knight that we'll be coming. I'll pull Shovel Knight along even if he doesn't want to!"

Black Knight shrugged and looked at the lamp, a sudden interest of how lamps burn filling his mind. "Well, if you say so… maybe we can have some better talks…"

"Hmm."

He flicked his gaze back at her. She held her arms out openly, a big smile plastered on her face.

"Thank you for saving Shovel Knight."

He huffed again and crossed his arms. "Anything you say is my command."

"Then come and give me a great big hug like when we were children!" She feigned a pout, her arms slightly dropping. "You never hugged since we were ten."

He groaned, but gave in to her request and gingerly stepped closer. Strong arms wrapped around his small frame and lifted him up in midair in a _lovely and choking hug._

"Aren't you injured?" The smaller knight protested.

"Haha! You're light! No problem for me!" She laughed out loud. "Not hurt anymore!"

"Aren't you… hurt by the Enchantress?"

The smile on Shield Knight's face vanished. She slowly put him back down on the ground, a serious and despondent expression on her face. "What do you think?"

He gasped after a long moment of silence. "Shield Knight."

She wiped a tear on her eye with a finger, sniffing softly. "But seeing Shovel Knight, you… the letter you sent, the scarf… nothing makes me happier than you three. It hurts, but when I know you're around all the time for me, I don't feel alone." Suddenly she picked him back up again and then cried happy tears onto his thick ridiculous coat. "Not even the worst of demons can defeat love. Don't forget that ever, you adorable little man."

Black Knight sighed deeply, and then returned her embrace with a shy smile. "I'm happy as well. Polar Knight will be when I tell him you are well."

"Tell him I'll be coming home." Shield Knight plopped her friend back down on the ground. "I'll be wearing the scarf too. Tell him it looks wonderful! I love what he made for me."

"I will."

"Hugs for him, too."

"I'm… not sure if I can do that."

"I request you to."

" _No_."

"I _order_ you to."

"Fine." He turned away. "I shall go."

"Hugs for everyone!"

"Alright, alright, gods. You're still the same." He waved his hand with a melancholic smile. "I must go. See you in the winter."

"See you soon."

 _ **.**_

 _ **N is for notes.**_

" _Give them back!" The tiny child jumped up and down, attempting to take his notebook from the hand of a bully. The latter only laughed as he watched the small kid pathetically trip._

" _Hey, what do you have in your notebook, nerd?" The taller kid opened the worn notebook and flipped through its pages. Ideas, sketches, and prototype plans for machines were scribbled everywhere, with no apparent order. "This is just a bunch of junk no one understands!"_

" _I understand it!" The small child pounced when the notebook was lowered to a reachable height, only to fall face-down on the floor when the bully put it back up in a swift sweeping motion. Now, all those around the small one cackled at his clumsiness._

" _You're just a parentless piece of crap." He grabbed a page and pulled the paper's edge. "No one would help you if this happens…"_

" _No! Stop! My research!"_

" _Who's going to help you, huh?" The larger kid just giggled as he tore more and more pages off the notebook. Paper fell to the ground, the scribbles detailing his passion for technology put out for the others to see._

 _The young inventor's eyes started to water. "Give it back! Do you know how much time I put into that notebook?"_

" _Shove off." The bully picked up the tiny child up by the collar of his shirt and then carried him outside, followed by a crowd of onlookers._

 _The little scientist could only sob to himself as the torment of his life put him on a high branch and abandoned him, snickering and smiling smugly with the crowd._

Didn't they see that science helps people live better and easier?

He had a recent idea about a wheel that could spin infinitely and produce enough energy to roast an entire fat wild pig in thirty minutes, and it was lost in the cruel play of an evil and narrow-minded boy.

Revenge for his lost work was inappropriate, however. He just grabbed some paper to start over, carefully avoiding the large metal canister of a highly volatile gas he accidentally discovered the previous night, and then began to draw a plan for a lamp that burned so brightly even in misty nights. That should show them all the wonders of engineering!

After all, science is about showing people… not _forcing others._

He started smiling again, thoughts and ideas flooding into his brain. What substance could be used for fire to burn as bright as the sun? No, wait, that's too much. Maybe the moon could work better in analogy. Could my magnesium ribbons work the magic? How about my magnesium powder? Wait, even though that element could burn so brightly, it runs out so easily… so what could work? He thought of the glowing dead fish he saw in lying on the seashore so many nights ago. Fish with a blob for a head and thin, stinging tentacles protruding below the blob, were glowing a very soothing shade of blue. What about an object that never stops glowing?

He scribbled both of those ideas on the paper.

What about a-

There was a loud knocking on the door.

"Leave me alone!" He shouted for the millionth time in his life. Let it be known that a scientist was working! Why do people always barge in his research time? How could he finish his projects fast if everyone wanted to waste his time?

"Hey, nerd! Open up, so we can destroy your house!"

The young scientist stiffened.

It was the boy who destroyed his notebook. He quickly turned off his room's small burning lamp, and peeked outside of his window.

Two of his enemy's cohorts were already walking around his tiny shack, large and thick sticks in their hands. They brandished it around and grinned at each other. _As if they knew how to properly wield a staff,_ the tinker thought.

"Come out, little bunny." One of them called out.

 _Fight or flight_? Obviously flight wasn't an option. He was trapped in his own house, surrounded by people who want to harm him. To fight was the only option. What could he fight with? He wasn't so good with fighting. Even a wrench couldn't help him.

His eyes fell on the metal canister standing by the stack of empty paper, waiting ominously. His gaze then went to the bottle of magnesium powder by his workbench. Frowning, he grabbed the can (with all his utmost care) and tilted it to the direction of the door. He placed two wooden blocks on either side of it, and then sprinkled magnesium powder at the butt of the can. His heart skipped a beat when something hard hit the door, the worn old door' hinges rattling. He hurried up to light a match, and then placed it by the powder. He then dashed to his bed to hide behind it.

3… 2… 1.

 _Fwoom._ The powder burned hotly under the canister. The young inventor squeezed his eyes shut and he put his hands over his ears.

 _The explosion is coming soon._

The flames licked at the outside of the canister. Inside, the gas swirled around, expanding as heat was fed to it.

The door came down, the door jambs breaking off from the hinges. Three ignorant boys entered with their large sticks at the ready.

"Come out now, your light show isn't-"

 _Boom._

The canister exploded, pieces of metal flying everywhere. The lid, still in one piece, was launched in high speed by the rapidly expanding gas, which then burned so brightly once it came into contact with both the magnesium's flame and the air. The metal cap hit the area between the upper lip and the nose of the boy at the center. Two small metal shrapnel embedded themselves in the chest of the boy to the right. The last one was blinded by the brilliant white light.

"Shit. Get away!" The last boy screamed, clutching at his eyes. "Get away!"

The young inventor tuned out the desperate shouts of his tormentors, and immediately set out to put out the flames currently raging in his workroom.

 _Good,_ he thought. _More alone time for me._

 _ **.**_

 _ **N is for notorious.**_

Of course, with all those years working mostly alone with only his subordinates to keep company, the engineer forgot things very frequently if it was not about what he loved the most.

The discoveries of groundbreaking technology excited him the most. His genius mind, given all the resources in the world and nourished by constant research, created the most inventive, creative, and outstanding machines known to humankind in his time.

A self-sustaining tower, requiring only the constant mechanical energy being infinitely cycling around it to power all other machines inside of it. Its gears and pendulums were intricately designed so that when one part couldn't function well, the entirety of the tower would still operate efficiently.

Small but powerful sparking rodents, designed to move around unpredictably and provide delay to any possible intruder.

Long, stretching platforms with a metal strip around it and gears moving inside used to carry heavy objects from one place to another without needing the use of strong men or horses.

A kettle that filters the salt and other impurities in seawater out and turn it into clean and sterilized drinking water.

Boomerang wrenches.

Carriages that can move without the need of healthy horses. Still in development, but looks promising.

Lamps that no longer need oil or wood to burn. It only needed the essences of the dead blob fishes that glowed so brightly. Add in some pure salt, the light turns blue. Sprinkle in dirt, and it burns yellow. Put in a gold nugget and it flashes red. Sprinkle gold powder and it becomes violet. So many colors, shades, and hues, all lovely to look at.

A giant machine that shot explosive rockets. He was also in the process of creating a smaller tank, built to be conveniently travel-sized for his mobility's sake. Maybe he could ride it like a carriage, but it can shoot powerful missiles everywhere.

The tinker had created so many breakthroughs that would aid in bettering the lives of men, women, children, horsemen, birdmen, everybody. Everything he made, he was sure as hell that they were useful in one way or another. He even mass produced his major inventions, excited for the townsfolk to notice it and admire the sciences that he was passionate for.

But today, he saw that all of his products were left rusting as a pile of scrap metal just outside of his Clockwork Tower.

He was fuming, his fists curled and brows knitted together. He was sucking in air through his teeth, hissing softly as he cursed the townspeople for leaving his precious machines to rot.

He was already storming to his workshop to plan his revenge when a memory came to mind.

" _I can give you your time, your resources, and your funds to create all the fruits of your intelligent mind, Tinker Knight," her soothing and seductive voice crooned, her violet eyes twinkling and drawing him into her turbulent and evil soul, "and all you need to do is to join me in the Order of No Quarter."_

 _That's right,_ the inventor thought _. It's not the town's fault._

 _It's_ her _fault for luring me into the Order of No Quarter. It's_ her _fault for making my inventions 'evil'._

 _I should do something about it._

 _ **.**_

 _ **N is for nickel.**_

Treasure Knight stared thoughtfully at the bag of nickel pieces plopped beside Anthony's cairn and thought for a moment. He pulled his diving helmet off and placed it on the bare earth beside him. He didn't feel a spirit puppy immediately hop on his large shoulder and start licking his cheek affectionately. It let out a silent bark, its broken tail wagging cheerfully in his presence, as if completely ignorant of the living knight's sorrow.

"Would you like a better resting place, buddy?"

It hopped off of his shoulder and barked happily.

 _Yes! Yes please! Arf!_

 _ **.**_

 _ **N is for never.***_

Your life flashes before your eyes when you die.

That was what the man in dirty scarlet clothes could only think of. He started to believe in such a naïve superstition. Darkness surrounded him, and it was the kind of darkness that threatened his life and future. The leafy canopy of the forest he was forced to hide in cast a darker shadow than the overcast clouds.

It was so dark everywhere. Thunder was already roaring and the air smelled of a coming rainstorm. If it rains, he could not move fast, and if he didn't move fast, the men out for his blood would catch him, and then kill him. The thought of his enemies getting their revenge frightened him more than the prospect of capture.

As he crept through the dense greens and rotting logs, he thought of the previous life he left behind. He almost forgot the existence of old childhood friends, his mentors and teachers who taught him all he used in his field of work, his family, his home. Never did he miss the face of the girl with dark eyes and short brown hair that he shared a childhood 'romance' with more than ever. He was five at most at the time that he fondly recalled, and he remembered that he had gleefully and childishly declared that he'd 'mewwy her'. Nothing was really lost that time. He was a pint-sized child with cheerfulness bursting from his soul and heart.

That was so long ago.

" _I wanna mewwy you when we gwow up!" His five year old self had beamed to his best friend. He had placed his tiny hands on his hips, a crooked yet big grin on his lips. His best friend, a girl whose brown hair had been cut short right above her shoulder and matching brown eyes giggled at his comment. She pulled him down on the sand pit she had been playing on as he declared his pledge of 'mewwage' to her, and then she had grabbed the green bucket-helmet on his head. He had started to laugh as she buried his feet under a mountain of sand. She emptied bucket after bucket of sand on his feet and laughed with him._

" _What's 'mewwy'?" She had asked innocently, bright eyes looking to her older brother. The brother's steel gray eyes flooded with tears of amusement and embarrassment._

" _It's when a boy and a girl wuv each other and wanna stay fowever!" The blond boy had answered with a bigger smile. "Mother said that I can mewwy you!"_

" _But do I wuv you?" The brunette had puckered her lips in thought._

" _I wuv you!" He had jumped off his place, demolishing the magnificent sand hill she had made before. Before she had time to scowl at him for destroying her mound, he had smushed his lips over hers. Her older brother fell to his knees, laughing heartily at his little sister._

 _Understandably, this lasted for three seconds at most. She had pushed him off with her nose scrunched up in disgust._

" _Ewwww!" She had stuck her tongue out._

" _But when a boy and a girl wuv each other-"_

" _They kiss! EWWW! That's so disgusting I don't wanna wuv!"_

" _Alright, big girl," the big brother had chuckled as he wiped off his tears, "you marry when you turn sixteen."_

" _I DON'T WANNA BE SIXTEEN!"_

" _I do!" The boy had wrapped his friend in a tight hug. "Can we be fwends fowever? Fight together when we go big?"_

 _His statement seemed to calm her fussy fit down a bit. "Okay!"_

 _He had pointed his tiny pinky finger at her. She wrapped her own pinky around his with a smile._

" _Hey, I wanna give this!" She had reached behind her and unclasped the hook of the golden chain around her neck. She then had held the blue and gold trinket out and dropped it into his waiting palm. "So that you'll remember we're fwends fowever! I'm weaving soon, and that sucks." She had pouted._

" _Weaving? So soon? NO!"_

 _She hugged him. "But at least, we are best fwends fowever!"_

The monster laughed, bitter tears forming in his eyes.

It was admittedly one of the only times he was innocent and adorable. But what the hell. That child was a far cry from the man currently being chased into a forest of death. He was known as a living terror that could kill any man whether frail or strong with a piece of rope. That bubbly, angelic child no longer existed. He turned into a demon.

He recalled his old friends, his brothers-in-arms from his training days. He had been teased to have the most handsome looks in the entire army, and could attract as much women as he wanted. They marched as foot soldiers in a couple of wars or so and in many smaller skirmishes, but they all made it out alright.

One time, he was alone in a small, cramped, and stuffy tavern. They found him in there.

" _Hey, banana knight!" A knight dressed in only his leg armor had called out from the tavern entrance. He had cropped black hair and ocean blue eyes. He had been flanked by two other men, who both looked alike with sculpted noses, very short light brown hair, and a shorter height than their companion. The twins had giggled at the young blond man, who had feigned annoyance at the nickname with a tiny and cute pout._

 _The banana knight motioned silently to the empty seats of his table. "Why are you here?" His tone had been lilting and buoyant, not like the harsh and cruel of his future personality._

" _Didn't expect you to be so witty last week! Throwing bananas at the enemy squad as reinforcements were still coming? So creative!"_

" _Well, we were in a banana orchard-"_

" _You made the enemies slip on the bananas!" The first twin had punched him affectionately on the shoulder._

" _Thank you-"_

" _I heard your bananas killed five of those bastards!" The second twin had grinned at his blond comrade. "Slipped and bopped their bloody heads! You were laughing like a maniac, too! You're a good one! Don't you think so, Leofstan?"_

 _The first twin, Leofstan, snickered. "Aye, Lawrence."_

" _It was funny seeing them slip. That was part of the plan-"_

" _Really? Plan? You're kidding." Lawrence raised his brow._

" _No, it is serious. I expected someone to slip and hinder their own forces, but I didn't entirely expect multiple kills-"_

" _If you ever get a title, they should dub you Banana Knight!" The half-armored knight had cackled loudly. "Your yellow hair matches the color, too!"_

 _The blond had scowled darkly, this time truly irked. He placed his forehead comfortably within his palm. "Damn you, Harold."_

 _Leofstan had noticed his grimace. "Hey, think of it as an intimidation factor! It's like you to frighten people. No one wants to be defeated by someone called 'Banana Knight', right?"_

" _They will not take me seriously."_

 _Lawrence had wrapped a strong arm around his shoulder and then pulled him. He had shot out an arm to the ceiling, a look of wonder on his face. "See this. Name, then followed by 'dutifully and loyally fought and died against Banana Knight'. Isn't it so embarrassing that even after death this son of a bitch still gets humiliated by you?"_

" _I appreciate it a lot." He sardonically quipped, eyes rolling. He instead let his gaze fall on his half-armored friend romancing a tavern waitress._

" _And something also is bothering me," Lawrence had said as he furrowed his brows, "with all that intelligence in your head," he tapped on his temple a couple of times with his knuckle, "and all those nice looks, where are the ladies sprawled all over you? Look at them! They like you!"_

 _Oh great, another round of encouraging flirty advancements._

" _No, please. I have reserved myself for one woman." He sank in his chair and quietly prayed. Please let it work, please let it work, please let it work…_

" _Eh?" The three chorused. "Who is this girl?" "Have we met her?" "How does she look like?"_

 _The blond knight sighed in exasperation. "When will you ever stop this…"_

 _The twins locked his arms in theirs and then dragged him out of the cramped tavern. He let out an uncharacteristic yelp of surprise when his black-haired buddy whooped and shouted out his name at the top of his lungs._

" _Tall, blond, and handsome! He's the best-looking bachelor in the army! Also the smartest in the Royal Special Guard! Threw bananas when his staff broke! Everyone! Fall for him! Make us happy!"_

" _Unhand me, you muffins, as I can kill you with your own moustaches and a grape!" The blond had screeched. The twins only laughed and led him out to the open streets of the town. His kicking and struggling had only resulted into more jeers and laughs._

" _He can kill me with my moustache and a grape!" Harold cackled. He raised his arms up and walked around, hollering to the giggling passersby. "His kisses are garlic-flavored because he loves garlic bread! Garlic bread is delicious, contrary to popular belief!"_

" _I can strangle you with my feet! I am serious about this. Stop it!"_

" _His dancing skills are so great he can strangle me with his toes! He's a really good dancer, too! Move your hips, pretty boy!"_

" _I do not like to dance!"_

" _Anyone who might make him more passionate for the romantic art of dancing wins his heart!"_

" _My heart is mine and MINE only!" Except for probably the brunette from when I was so young, he didn't add. I don't even know if I was serious that time!_

" _Everyone, we have an eligible man here! blond hair weaved from sunlight! Shiny eyes! Beautiful smile! Shy type! Ladies love it, certainly!"_

 _Running out of insults and threats, he just had let out a dramatic scream of anguish._

Fire-forged friendships last forever, he knew, but with his infamous notoriety, would they even recognize him? Would they even treat him as a friend? Would they continue their lifelong vow to push him to the ladies and make him annoyed but cheerful?

Wait a moment.

He forgot.

All of his closest friends are dead.

 _He had stared at the obliterated camp grounds, the firewood and his trusty swordstaff long forgotten by his feet. The smell of burning grass and earth stung his nose and eyes. He could even see burnt body parts lying around scattered, much of them still burning. Tears began to form at the rims of his eyes as he fell to the ground on his knees. The only survivor…_

 _How did one happy moment with him volunteering to get some dry branches from the woods turn into an absolute disaster? Harold had been dozing off on the lounge table while the twins ate their bread rations. No one seemed out of harmony. How did incendiary explosions engulf the entire camp-_

 _His eyes widened. He grabbed his swordstaff and ran._

 _There must be an enemy among themselves, he had whispered to himself, running to the direction of the next camp. There's a mole, a traitor or an agent that killed everyone… I didn't see it coming…_

 _He hadn't sense the presence of a pair of amber eyes watching him. Those eyes had burned with malice._

Hahaha… how tragic…

Drops of water started to fall down from the gray skies. He took a moment to stare at the small spots of darker crimson on his long sleeves, and then looked up. The tree canopies were scattered now, with patches of leaves here and there and big all around. He blinked when a drop of rain hit his cheek, and then he started to run again.

He started to miss the times he would be completely clueless when talking to a woman even with all his wits and mind-reading capabilities. He started to wish to rewind time and spend more copper pieces on beer and ale with his buddies. But death could not be reversed so simply. There was just no going back with odds against him, prodigal or not.

He recalled a time when he would sleep in a warm bed, with his favorite warm garlic bread and tea waiting for him by his bedside table, and wake up without a constant fear of getting caught and turned over to whatever margrave that wanted him in the dungeons. He couldn't rest his mind. He couldn't close his eyes without expecting an entire order of knights knocking on his door with orders to kill. He couldn't stop thinking of endless ways to murder his targets, whether for work or for his personal sake. When did it all start… ah, yes.

 _He had woken up from a deep, restful slumber. He had felt like shit, the memories of the explosion haunting his mind immediately after his eyes took in the pristine blue cloth of the physician's clinic. He had slipped the covers off of himself and had swung his legs to the side of the bed. He then grunted as he had pushed himself up from the comfortable medical mattress, successfully putting himself on an upright position. He had spared a quick glance to the bandages covering his arms. Out of habit, he had rubbed at the surface of the skin-colored cloth. His short blond hair had been shaggy and unkempt from a good night's sleep, and yet he had sighed dejectedly. He didn't deserve this rest with many of his comrades dead._

 _A commotion outside drew his attention. At first he had paid no heed to the argument outside until he heard his name being called._

" _He has to be arrested and tried for his crimes!" A stranger's voice had shouted. "He is the prime suspect!"_

" _How can you even prove it? He is a member of the Royal Special Guard. Those men have been conditioned to be loyal to the ruler! And you are saying he is a traitor and rigged the explosion?" The knight commander barked, his voice almost cracking at the sheer volume of his words. "You dare accuse this righteous man of treason, you potato shite?"_

" _All men can be tempted! He may have been paid, or maybe he has unknown allegiance to the enemy! Remember, he is rumored to be an adopted child!"_

" _What you're saying is farfetched, you pompous fuckbucket!"_

" _Due process reigns!"_

" _And I say to hell with your so-called due process because what you're accusing this man is complete horse shit!"_

" _All suspects have to go through due process! He has to be investigated! The threat sent to the royal family was that a single man is a mole in the Special Guard!"_

" _And what if he's not the man you're speaking of?"_

" _Then he will be set free and allowed to continue service!"_

 _There had been a loud 'hmph' before heavy footsteps trudged on dirt. Light had suddenly flooded in the tent, almost blinding the blond knight. A black-caped man with silver armor had marched in with a grimace in his face and had taken a seat beside the injured man._

" _I heard my name." He quietly said. "What happened?"_

" _Eh. That bastard thinks you are the one who blew up your camp. Says a letter was sent that there was a traitor, just like what you said yesterday."_

" _They think it is me?"_

" _I don't believe that. I'll be attending your trial to testify for you. I'll help you get out of this knot."_

" _You do not have to do that."_

" _I'm the fucking commander of this camp, and we happen to be right next to yours. I'll be helping your sorry butt whether you like it or not."_

" _I appreciate it…"_

" _Come on. Let's go." The silver knight had held out a hand and had pulled the blond up. He had led him out of the tent and had given him a reassuring glance, and then had scowled at an amber-eyed man with shiny armor. The blond had felt his gut wrench when he saw a peculiar twinkle in the amber eyes of the stranger._

" _I'll be having you." The amber-eyed man said blankly._

" _I'll be sending three of my men to escort him." The commander pointed to the bandaged young man, and then had beckoned three nearby soldiers to him, all wielding halberds._

 _The survivor had almost sworn he saw the stranger's eyes widen._

" _Fine."_

 _He had cast a shy glance at the commander before nodding and walking to the stranger. The group of five had immediately taken to the cleared forest path as soon as rope was tied around the blond's wrists._

 _Nothing really happened as they had walked down the path. All of them had been silent. The amber-eyed man had snuck stolen gazes at the three escorts, causing the blond to furrow his brows in suspicion._

 _Without warning, the stranger had unsheathed his sword and brandished it around, slashing one of the halberdiers' arms off. The others had responded almost immediately, one of them cutting the ropes binding the prisoner's hands, and the other attacking the stranger._

 _Everything was a blur to the blond. Yells of charge and attack shortly fogged his perception. Memory failed._

 _Suddenly, his escorts were dead, and the assailant and he had been the only ones alive._

" _Who are you?" He had growled when his thoughts had formed a rational string of logic._

" _Someone whose interests fall in your incarceration." The stranger had placed the blade of his own sword on his cheek and then slashed. Fresh blood had trickled out of the deep cut. "There. That should help me."_

" _You are the traitor!" He had yelled, grabbing a fallen man's halberd._

" _No. You are." A finger had been pointed at the blond just to spite him. "You're smart enough to know what happens if you get locked up in a dark cell." The enemy grinned. "I killed everyone in the camp, and it seems that you survived. But that is not important. Your kingdom would lose since I'm sabotaging it. "_

" _I will never allow that to happen!" He had raised the pole weapon up and, without thinking much, chopped his opponent's right hand. A part of him had gleefully laughed at the scream of pain, and another more quiet part had protested at the unnecessary cruelty. The amber-eyed cur had fallen to his knees on the ground, clutching his bleeding limb close to his stomach._

" _So," the blond's eyes had burned with fury, "with this, I shall kill the enemy."_

 _With one sweep of a sharp blade, blood poured into the earth. The blond had placed the halberd down and then had thought about revenge for his friends now done. He turned to walk, only for someone new to shout something._

" _Dear gods…"_

 _Three new knights had emerged from the trees, all staring in horror at the severed head on the ground. They then glanced at him, eyeing the insignia on his uniform armor and memorizing his face._

" _Thank goodness you are here." The blond had sighed. "He was the traitor that obliterated my camp-"_

" _You bastard. That was our messenger!"_

 _He had tilted his head, bewildered. "He was sent to arrest me. He was not a messenger at all-"_

" _He was sent to deliver the message to the other camps that the Third Camp has been obliterated by a group of moles, as warned in the threat letter!"_

 _What threat letter? What message? What truly happened? What is happening now?_

" _And you intercepted the message! Even if you're a Special Guard, you must be one of the enemies! You, divulge his true identity to the royal court!"_

" _Yes, sire!"_

" _Call everyone in the convoy!"_

" _As you wish."_

 _He had put his hands up, shaking his head and looking at them with wide, frightful eyes. "Wait, I think-"_

 _The lead knight had lunged at him. "Die!"_

 _Out of fear, he bolted away. He ran as far as he could, his heart beating so fast with shouts from multiple foes, not his enemies but everyone who was supposed to be fighting with._

 _Nothing had been on his mind but run, run, run, don't let them catch you, if they do the truth would be suppressed because what they saw is what they think they saw, what they think will judge you, you'll die if you let them catch you, run, they won't listen to you, run faster, hide, hide, please don't kill me._

 _It had seemed to be hours when he stopped running. He had found a small dark crevice under tree roots. He had entered his first home for his new life, hugging his knees and sobbing._

He liked to be a living ghost that was impossible to catch, so that he could continue on his vengeance. However, his wishes had great consequences. He was going to hell for his actions.

There was also one thing nagging at the back of his head. Something about detachment and sentiment…

 _The pain of being a wanted man everywhere he went had stabbed him in the heart, the knife twisting all the time in his very soul. Everyone had been met with shock and surprise when his name had been announced as the kingdom's public enemy. He had knocked on the door of his home when he suddenly thought about their safety._

 _That it was better to distance himself from the ones he loved. The metaphorical knife had just been buried a lot deeper into his heart._

 _An elder woman had opened the door, greeted by an empty doorstep. She had looked around in bewilderment before she shut the door again. She had sighed, wondering if her son was going to come home as her son and not the fugitive they all made him out to be. She wiped away a small tear from her eye, thinking about all the things she would do when he came knocking at the door, looking like he'd been trampled on. She would let him in his true home and nurture him, defend him from all his enemies with her heart and life. She had his favorite garlic bread in a small basket on her table, his favorite blanket, his lovely hat… she had begun to sob._

 _He had only been behind the hedge in the family garden, silently crying. His lips quivered as he caressed the locket in his palm, the only important thing he had. He huffed in anger at no particular thing, and crept away, tears staining his angelic face._

 _She would only be brought the news that the old and retired knights that used to be his mentors and teachers had been found with their feet tied to rope and hung upside down with several bloody stabs, all fingers and toes severed, and large blood pools below their corpses. She would deny to herself that her son had been the one to do it since an eyewitness had survived the cruel massacre and had described him in full detail. She would wail in her home, hugging his favorite coat and refusing to eat, until she too would be touched by sweet death._

It was true, though. When danger follows you, it is best to distance yourself from the people you love. But his self-exile was the one that killed his only family's hope of loving him… _so what_ _is my problem?_

 _Years passed on, the infamy of his name had been worsening by the second. The blood that had been on his hands could fill oceans and the cruelty he had committed had transformed him into a monster. But was it cruelty if he was only following his oath of honor in his own little way?_

 _He had laughed when the bounty on his head reached hundreds of millions. Countries clambered after him, promising all their riches just to eliminate him from the world of the living. As a pragmatic and vengeful man he wanted nothing but to obliterate entire empires on his own, and he only wanted to destroy one power._

 _Years went by and he got numerous names._ _La Terreur. Der Schnitter. Die Vernichtung._ _Der Todesbringer. La Muerte. The Specter. The Runaway. The Fallen._

 _The last one was fairly common… and surprisingly true._

 _Cozy in his safe house, he had abruptly snapped out of… something. Was it a trance, a spell? He never knew._

 _When he had been staring at his own bounty poster, he suddenly realized one thing. His actions ended the war between his country and another. The three insignias on his latest bounty poster were of his former kingdom, the enemy he had wanted to be banished to hell, and the one that had been caught in crossfire some time ago._

 _A part of him that had been dormant had spoken out with foreign gentleness._

' _This was what you really wanted, you know.'_

 _He had stared at his bounty poster. His kingdom was no longer at war, even in good ties with his nemesis._

 _And his actions have influenced it._

 _Out of habit, he had let his deft fingers glide on the surface of the pendant of the trinket around his neck. He thought, maybe it is time to settle down again. I have done good deeds after all._

 _But was it his destiny? To lose virtually everyone he loved in his life, to be sacrificed for the greater good? Didn't he have the right to love and be loved, to never feel alone? He angrily punched the wooden table's surface once, twice, until his skin had peeled off and blood on his fist and the wall. Was he going to die alone, deprived of the one human trait to love?_

 _His eyes had stung with tears again._

 _Did he deserve love anymore?_

 _The faces of his close friends, his mother, the traitor, the camp commander, everyone he knew, plagued his mind in full force after years of suppression. He almost screamed out in agony, until he remembered something._

 _The locket around his neck._

 _Her._

' _Hey, I wanna give this! So that you'll remember we're fwends fowever!' her childish voice giggled in his mind._

 _He had looked at the locket again, his sight blurred by tears. He crossed his fingers and hoped his childhood friend would still recognize him. He had grabbed money, a thick coat, a red hat, and then combed his long hair to tie it back with a band._

 _I'm going out to look for her. Just one last chance._

He touched the cold surface of the gold and blue jewel hanging around his neck. He thought, _maybe she would understand. I hope she remembers. She is my last resort._

When does someone cross the event horizon? How did he transform from a small chubby boy with no care in the world into a man straight from all men's nightmares? But still, a man could still love even if he turned into a demon, right?

…

 _I know the answer._

 _It is-_

He stumbled upon a trap made for hunting deer but meant for killing him. The knotted rope swiftly tightened itself around his ankle and threw him up a hard surface. His back hit hard a hard wooden plank used for hunters' mobility in the forest. The wind was knocked out of his chest, and the force hit his lungs very hard. He then fell down several feet back down, landing on the ground with a crippling thud.

It seemed to attract the attention of the various men hunting him.

He coughed out crimson, pushing himself up with all his remaining strength. Breathing became a hard labor with his own blood drowning him and his back battered. Walking became a chore with a sprained foot and a hurt back. He picked up a long branch longer than him but thick enough to support him. His right arm seemed to have been broken by his high and bad fall. He stood up and brushed away the stray blond hairs on his face. He was suddenly pushed down to his front, only for cold metal to grab his temples and jerk him backward. He let out a choked yelp, feeling something on his back break.

He couldn't see the man who caught him, but he could make out his large silhouette. This man was more than thrice his size, unless his armor made him look so large. It was no doubt, though, that his assailant would bring forth his punishment. He found himself being dragged to a nearby tree, and he felt his entire body forced to sit on the tree trunk. Strong fingers found their way to his throat, and wrapped around his neck. The dying man choked out a small whimper when those fingers pressed his beating pulse. He weakly clawed at the metal-clad hand strangling him.

"Let me… go." He managed to croak out.

"I will when you're dead." The other man muttered, and promptly tightened his grip on him.

His world started to close in on him. Black started to form around the corners of his vision, and white dots littered his sight. He could no longer see his killer, the one who would end the flow of the river of blood in his name. His hands fell limp on his sides. His eyes watered with his last wishes.

"I want… to live again."

His last words were nothing more than a whisper, and became forever lost in the secrets of the shadows. One emotion started to flood in his mind, sparked by the dream that was formed too late. Rage poured into his soul even when the touch of death caressed him, the denial of a possible new life in peace inspiring anger to rise above all other emotions, like his love, his sadness, his joy. Enraged tears watered his eyes as wild ideas formed in his head.

 _Why was it that when you're already dead is when you start to wish for better things in life? How tragic, what an unjust life! Why did the world let you fall into the pit when you only stumbled on a stone, when you could have stood back up and brushed off the dust of failure? Fate pushed you into the flames of hell when you were at the wrong place at the wrong time! If this was my destiny, I should just have let someone else get the firewood! I should have just died with them as a good soldier! I could have been remembered fondly! I could have been given honor! Selfish, biased, unkind, and unreasonable providence must be! Damn it all!_

 _I just want to live a good life!_

 _Let me live!_

 _I want to live!_

Oh, how he wished to become darkness. He wished to embody the terror and rage he himself feared in these last moments of life.

He finally let out his last breath.

 _ **.**_

 _ **N is for name.**_

He wished for more sweet memories to think of and not just a long chain of horrible events that was his life.

Specter Knight kicked the dust as he rested his head on his hand. He desperately wanted to close his eyes and doze off to take a break from the terrors of his two lives, but a _reaper_ doesn't do that. As if his mind was at peace enough to allow him sleep! He felt a nagging thought at the back of his head. Something about… this entire thing being not normal.

Yes. He wasn't supposed to relive his life in its entire duration.

He looked to his right and felt very wrong about seeing an empty space. Something should occupy that empty space, but just what-

 _Oh. It's my assistant. She's not here._ He began to worry about his own personal wellbeing. What was he going to do if he lost the rambles and the admittedly _interesting_ things she does? He wasn't going to return to an undeath of boredom! At least being plagued with headaches and being well-versed in the art of tuning out long sentences were infinitely better than having to wallow in self-pity.

He hovered off his perch on a thatch roof and looked around. "Servant? Where are you?"

He called her again and again, floating around aimlessly. The clumsy skeletons answered his interrogations with either a small rattle or a respectful shrug. She wasn't around.

"Servant?"

He arrived at the pond where the sinking soil was and called her again. _Does she have a name I can use?_ He thought to himself. _She never mentioned a name before-_

"I promise I'd help you guys get out of there."

He turned to the voice and instantly found her kneeling on one sinking platform with her face close to the crimson soil.

"I'll somehow convince Master to let you back up someday. I'm scared of him, but if it's for you guys I'm okay with all that-"

"What are you doing?" He chimed in, hovering to her. He saw her stiffen in place and twitch as she stood, or _floated_ back up and greet him with her usual cheerful manner.

 _How on this green earth does she admit she is scared of me and then happily talk to me in the next moment?_

"Good day, sir!"

"Who were you talking to?" He eyed the souls below the soil surface. The stout guy with broken glasses and a pickelhaube and the young soul with buck teeth stared back up forlornly with gaunt faces. She made a small pointing motion to them with her lips pursed.

"My first friends in this life. They were the ones who found me!" She pointed to her 'feet'. "They helped chop off my legs!"

"That is an unusually happy statement."

"Well, I couldn't move away from the spot I died in with that iron ball chained to my feet! I had to remove them!"

"How insane are you?"

She didn't seem to hear his comment. "I really wanted to get out of that place. I couldn't really talk to my fishy friends since all they do is just swim around. I don't speak fish. Slimy slugs also freak me out a lot, but well, since I was dead and forced to float around on the sea floor, I managed. The corals looked so beautiful, though! The fish were colorful. Did you know there are fish that have large fins with spikes? Or fish that look like stones and could kill you if you stepped on them? Or flat fish that hide under the sand and eat crabs? Personally I found the blobs with long tentacles adorable, but if they didn't sting so much I could hug them forever. They also are immortal, some of those blobs. Ooh, there might just be a blob version of you, master! Hey, and did you know that corals are alive? And that fish live in corals? They just don't seem alive, but they are! It is a bit unnerving to think that your house is alive and breathing…"

Specter Knight exhaled air and let her words go into one ear and out through the other. Long, barely bearable minutes passed before she noticed him drifting away mentally.

"… and they dove in with a chef's knife and cut off my feet- Master? Are you alright?"

He snapped back from a trance of not listening at all to her but still managing to hear her. "I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"How is it that you still are uncomfortably cheerful?"

"What do you mean?" She furrowed her brows and looked up at him.

"You clearly died horribly." He shrugged. "I can admit that I died a horrible death as well, but you remember things and speak of them as if everything is light to you."

A wistful smile appeared on her lips. "I know I was dropped there under the sea to die before I could get to have my dreams, but… things happen for a reason, right?" She shrugged. "If something goes wrong, I just hope for the best to come, and usually it does! I have good friends… you pushed them down there, by the way," she pointed to the blood-red ground with a shrug, "and I got you!"

He tilted his head, bewildered. "What do you mean you have me…?"

"Well, I work for you now. Nothing makes me happier than doing something for eternity even if it scares me so much. Well, at least, until I disappear I have something worth my while."

"I think you and I are so different." He muttered, glancing at the bubbling evil water. "However, I shall keep your insight in mind. I have another thing to ask of you."

"Anything."

"What is your name?" He spoke a little more softly than usual. "I am beginning to tire of calling you 'servant'."

"I thought you knew but you just don't want to use it?" She raised her brows. "It fits you to call me by whatever name you want. I thought you'd guess correctly…"

He shot her a glare. "Is your name Cornelia?"

"Nope."

"Cecilia?"

"No."

"Sunshine?"

"No."

"Angela?"

"Nope."

He grit his teeth. "Gertrude?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Antoinette?"

"Nope."

"And that," he crossed his arms, "is the proof that I cannot guess your name."

"If you really want…" she twiddled her fingers and bit her lip, "call me Mitzi… but it means 'rebel', which I really am not… I don't want to be one to you anyway."

 _Mitzi… It means 'rebel'… how fitting for someone whose life has been terrible but remains hopeful._

 _What evil fortune! Fate once again triumphs over me. How luckless..._

 _I can never hope anymore._

"What a beautiful name." He commented softly, then turned around and went away.

 _ **Up next: O is for odd.**_

 _*_ _ **Important note**_ _: A_ _ **BIG**_ _problem I have is Specter's campaign. When it comes out, and it smashes the headcanon I had,_ _ **I will probably edit N is for never, as well as other Specter snippets, to align more with canon. The Phase Locket's significance here would probably differ from the canon story, and I will tweak it when it happens.**_ _His story here is heavily based on the 'tragic fall from grace' idea back from Dig the Vote's days, which might be different from the final product as we have seen in Plague of Shadows._


	15. O is for out of the blue

_To NerdwithaPencil: Thank you! I'm actually planning for King Knight's arc story to be about how he deals with the insurgency problem instead of putting them all in a chunk of text. I do want to keep his backstory to a minimum – I'm already worried about the possible massive changes that would happen for Specter's story since there's a big arrow pointing at him with 'backstory magnet' above him and I'm afraid it might happen to King Knight as well, but I'll see what I can do! :) I've got some backstory for him on this chapter!_

 _Weep for me, for my woes are speedtyping when their campaigns come out._

 _To Monkey99Boy: Propeller, believing in things that the rest of his own kind do not; Treasure, being a victim of extreme poverty; Tinker, being passionate about something that everyone around him doesn't understand; Specter, living in a world where people are quick to jump to conclusions and assume that the majority statement is true. But as I said to another reader; he is NOT someone to be sorry for. I am_ elated _to see you say this is 'more engaging'! I'm never going to run out of thanks!_

 _About the banana and the rebel… I actually chuckled when I saw this part. Do whatever you want! Ohonhonhon. I should say, though, that I have many things in store for this two. Just wait. ;)_

 _Apologies for the really late update. I have posted all the reasons for the month-long delay on my tumblr._

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for octopus.**_

Treasure Knight pulled out his large purple chair and sat on it.

"What are those small creatures on your helmet?" Polar Knight pointed at the purple things stuck on the hoarder's diving helm. Treasure Knight let out a questioning 'hrr?' before he took his helmet off to investigate.

"Oh." Treasure Knight examined the creatures with wide-eyed curiosity. There were a few round balls with eight squishy arms and two tiny eyes, clinging around the glass piece on the bounty hunter's helmet. They were still a little damp with the kelp and seaweed that they were also clutching on. Their beady black eyes appeared to blink adorably at him. "Octopi. Tiny octopi with damp kelp. I haven't seen this type in my life."

Tinker Knight jumped on his seat and thrust his face close to the octopi. "Octopi! Fascinating! Their arms sting, right?"

"No… you're talking about jellyfish. Those things can fucking kill you if they sting you."

"So they're all safe." Tinker Knight reached out to touch the head of the tiny octopi. The head bobbed up and down as he stroked it. "They're nice."

"Yes, I agree." Polar Knight dryly stated. "Now, let us start our war meeting-"

Tinker Knight resumed stroking the tiny octopus' head. "You are fascinating sea creatures." The eight, stubby arms of the octopus he caressed loosened its hold on the gold helmet, and the engineer took it. He placed it on his palm, liking how the head fit snugly in his palm. "Your arms should be studied. What makes them so stick- AAH!"

"Tinker Knight," Polar Knight sighed in exasperation and put his chicken leg down, "what is wrong?"

"It stuck in my hand!" Tinker Knight fell backwards, and when he sprung back up, he violently shook his arm up and down, attempting to throw it off. Before the entire Order could erupt in complete disorder, Specter Knight grabbed his tiny teammate's arm. His ice-cold claws freaked Tinker Knight out more.

"I request that you stop squirming, inventor." The apparition hissed. He slammed the engineer's arm down on the table and then carefully stroked the purple creature's head with a cautious finger. The suckers on its arms gradually loosened their grip on Tinker Knight's palm, leaving behind tiny red circular marks on his skin. Specter Knight calmly pulled the octopus off and plopped it on his arm. The short arms of the octopus curled themselves around his shriveled palm and wrist. The tiny sucker stared up at the apparition cutely.

"It tickles." The specter chuckled lightly.

"Well, that stays there. I don't want it!"Tinker Knight crossed his arms and fumed on his chair.

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for outlive.**_

Plague Knight plopped himself on the floor, inserting the swirly straw in a small hole in his mask for him to drink, and sipped the glowing red healthy liquid without a care in the world.

Mona laughed. "If you drink enough of my brew, maybe you'd outlive me even if you're the ill one!"

His content and cute smile vanished, and he looked up at her. His bird mask was expressionless and static, but the way his back slouched, his shoulders drooped, and bird face gazing up at her just said 'I feel so bad when you say that'.

Mona grinned widely, magenta on her cheeks, and picked up her adorable lovebird up to crush him in a tight embrace. "You're so cute."

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for omelette.**_

The tiny explosives expert bit his lip, brows knit together under the mask as he carefully cracked the egg in his tiny hand. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, his heart hammering his chest, his breath short and sudden. The egg wasn't even cracked, and his hands were threatening to let go of the chicken egg.

 _Dammit,_ the plaguemaster thought, _I'm not bad at cooking, so why am I so nervous?_

Sweat started to bead on his forehead and temples. His greenish mask hid the constipated look he had on his face, but trembling fingers and frozen body wasn't helping at all. He plucked up all his concentration and willed his thumbs to break the eggshell already, but his quivering digits couldn't even move according to his will.

 _Oh my gods. I just want to cook eggs benedict for Mona._

His quivering frame caught the attention of several concerned Plague Minions. Watching their boss practically become a statue while cooking, which by the way is something the knight was very good at, was a cause for worry, especially since, well, Plague Knight never shivers except when in the presence of his lovely Mona.

Well, he was thinking of Mona.

"Hey, Boss, are you ok-"

Plague Knight let out a high-pitched birdlike squawk.

The egg was dropped.

The egg's shell broke.

/*a few minutes later*/

She could see the exhausted look in his eyeholes.

"What happened to you?"

Plague Knight set down the platter of food and removed the lid. Mona looked at the dish for a short moment before flicking her gaze up to her partner.

"Omelettes." She said monotonously.

"I wanted eggs benedict, but I had scrambled eggs instead…"

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for out of the blue.**_

The five graduating students of anthropology, clothes tattered and faces grimy, huddled together in a circle as their guide and professor was sleeping in his tent. The crackle of the bonfire calmed the terrified group a little. They spoke in hushed whispers as not to wake up their teacher.

"The entire thing with us being lost is out of the blue." One of the students whispered. "We know that he was sane when we left for the Lost City, and somehow, in the middle of the trip, he started to lose it."

"And it's getting worse." A second piped up.

"I'm going to try and steer us to the direction of the Lost City." A third held up his compass. "We know we're somewhere near the fork and the dead village. It should be up north."

"Landmarks, landmarks." The second reminded. "What do we have to see to say we're already near?"

"We'll see lava, and we'll know it."

"Let's just survive this, get help for Professor, and then we'll all be fine. Everything is alright. We'll do what we have to do." The last one said. "We're close. We'll be safe."

"But what of the revolutionaries? They might kill us!"

"We'll just have to avoid them. Don't tell anything about the Order of No Quarter. We're neutral from the start. Just… let us survive."

"Hey! Remember about the smoke signals we learned about three months ago?" The first abruptly piped up.

The four others gasped and looked at their companion in awe.

"Alright! Let's do that."

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for Order of No Quarter.**_

 _The most obsessed man alive, whose envious drive could make him the ruler of the entire earth. Your vanity allows you to seize all you wish._

 _King Knight._

A sphere of violet power manifested in her discolored hand, flashing white and purple as invisible and intangible energy shot out from the Tower of Fate's lair to the south, to Pridemoor Keep.

The orb then revealed men in gold, one of them with a red and white fluffy cape. King Knight was on his throne, looking seriously and attentively at knights with gold armor. A map of the Valley was on a table, the metal men arguing and debating over tactics and possible future moves of the strong revolt that shook the Order's very foundation.

She let the usurper be.

 _The least motivated of the Order, the most romantic of all men, and yet the most dangerous to cross. Your radical will can never be toppled and broken._

 _Propeller Knight._

She was immediately greeted with the sight of the Frenchman, his helmet off. He was letting his light brown hair fly freely in the heavens' winds, a golden ribbon between his fingers. He had a grin from ear to ear, laughing at a halberdier beside him. The static blue and gold visor of Propeller Knight's favorite subordinate somehow expressed his profound disappointment and sadness.

" _My family. I miss zhem."_

" _Ohonhon, you're only homesick,_ mon ami." The French captain clapped a hand over the armored shoulder of his best friend, startling the halberdier.

" _Zhat surprised me."_ Albrecht snickered a little.

"Je suis ton ami, _Albrecht."_ The Frenchman's teeth sparkled when he flashed a kind-hearted grin.

Albrecht rolled his eyes. " _You are also homezick, aren't you?"_

Propeller Knight's arms slid down, and then he glided away, looking out at the green fields far away from the Flying Machine's deck. His cheerful smile had turned quite nostalgic and melancholic.

" _Oui. I miss France."_ His hazel eyes gleamed with tears. _"But by now France knows of where I am now."_

" _You haven't done anyzhing bad."_

" _Ah-ah, that's true! The worst I did is seducing women! But consider. A knight of the Order of No Quarter who has done nothing evil. Do you think France will believe it? No."_

Albrecht sighed. _"Vell, vhat do you zhink about my situation, zhen? I'm in zhe same boat."_

His gloved hand flew over his mouth, barely stifling his laugh. _"Haha! Did you just say a pun? Boat? Flying Machine?"_ His smile quivered, thoughts of their countries coming back to haunt him. His hazel eyes watered again, but Albrecht wasn't looking.

" _Hah."_ The German simply replied, shrugging.

" _Hey. If we ever go back to France, or, maybe the German Kingdom, and if we get chased down by peasants and knights with burning torches and pitchforks, we die together, oui?"_

Albrecht let out a strangled laugh, and then patted his friend's shoulder. "Alles für dich."

" _What does that mean?"_

" _It means, 'all for you'."_

Propeller Knight beamed, and changed the subject. _"You know, I've read a German story about a prince and a princess falling in love. I never thought Germans are into some literature featuring hardco-"_

Albrecht's eyes widened. " _Vhy zhe_ hell _are you bringing my secret books up?"_

The Enchantress smugly grinned as she muttered incomprehensible words, streams of thin purple strings appearing from her fingertips and flowing to Albrecht's image in the orb.

In the midst of his protesting and genuine surprise that his boss _found_ his secret stash in the library, the German started coughing. Propeller Knight stopped laughing mischievously and frowned worriedly at his subordinate. He reached out to his underling, patting his back.

" _Are you fine?"_

The halberdier held his palm up. " _I just breathed in some dirt. Don't vorry."_

The sorceress sneered at Propeller Knight's increasing concern, and then moved on to the next knight.

 _The strongest and stalwart knight of the cold, the blizzard of pure skill and wit. Your motives are secretive and shrouded well in mystery._

 _Polar Knight._

The snow shoveler was sitting in a warm chamber in the Stranded Ship, balls of red and gold yarn by his feet and various hooks and needles scattered under his old and worn chair. His shadowed eyes looked right into hers, the half-finished scarf on his lap left alone. He was just… glaring at her with a heated stare.

Somewhere in the back of the sorceress' mind, a small voice, incredibly strong and hopeful, started to shout.

 _Help me! Help me! I'm just right he-_

The Enchantress willed the orb dissipate into thin air before the suppressed voice could break out of its prison. The imprisoned soul's voice still rang out and echoed within their shared dark mind, and after a few moments, the tenacious spirit's voice died down, and then… defiant silence followed.

Assessing that her possessor spirit was safe, she reactivated the spying orb.

 _The prodigal genius destined for service to the far future but born in the past. Your imagination immortalizes you._

 _Tinker Knight._

The sphere swirled with gray and blue colors before revealing Tinker Knight. He was standing outside of his self-sustaining Clockwork Tower, his gloved hands pulling at his short hair. There was a massive pile of rusting metal and machines, stacked carelessly on top of each other near the Tower, hidden by the cover of the hills beside.

She wondered if he would detect her stealthy magic with his advanced technology with a dark laugh.

 _The immovable terror with no hesitance to kill in exchange for earthly and material power. Your unquenchable drive nets you all the riches of the world and beyond._

 _Treasure Knight._

The orb only showed the bounty hunter sitting on the seashore, the Iron Whale's top visible from his position. He was sitting on the sand, polishing his golden diving helmet. After wiping his helmet until it was squeaky clean, he picked up a black bag full of coins that had been beside him and then walked away from the shoreline.

 _I think I am not surprised_ , the Enchantress thought before she let the image dissipate.

She skipped what the bounty hunter did after – he walked by the small pile of flat stones with a single name crudely carved on one of the stones, and whispered good promises to the bones of a puppy buried under the cairn.

 _The excavator of crumbling ruins, reading the past to predict the present and future. Your perseverance has earned you much knowledge._

 _Mole Knight._

She immediately scowled at the picture before her. It was Mole Knight and his team standing before the remains of her previous Order of no Quarter. The knight himself was looking over the shoulder of a linguist studying a clay tablet.

 _They_ were useless. All brawn, no brains, all flesh, no real power.

Well. That was why she breathed new, unholy life into Specter Knight.

She shifted her attention to a group of students hiking in the mountains, all five of them bursting with excitement as their guide and professor told them stories of the finds in the Lost City and how anthropologists from all four fields were fascinated by the unearthing of the ruins.

The Enchantress breathed a quick spell to befall the poor old anthropologist. She then quickly went back to the Lost City, following the telltale smell of exploding powder and then focusing her energy to set fire to the black, foul-smelling powder.

There was a loud boom, followed by panicked screams.

The Enchantress laughed, and then left for the Explodatarium's view.

 _The lithe and nimble scientist of death and pestilence. Your fearlessness knows no bounds._

 _Plague Knight._

Her brows creased with worry. The little alchemist himself was asleep on his bouncy bed, his mask a bit aside to reveal some burn scars on his right cheek. She looked over at the scattered research papers on his desk and floor, scribbles concerning skulls of brown field mice, ectoplasm essence, non-alchemical gold, and slime being minor ingredients of Serum Supernus.

He was coming very close to power that might rival her own magicks. Her sorcery, amassed over millennia of existence, could possibly be overcome by alchemical power brewed in a bottle overnight.

Alchemy, potentially the most powerful art and science in the entire world. So many possibilities. Transmute living flesh into inanimate metal. Breathe life into wood and stone. Produce gold out of sawdust and mouse skulls.

Brew the potion that could dominate the world.

But cooperation would be lovely. Her magic from ancient times, complemented by scientific research into the supernatural… what a combination.

 _Especially when supported by someone with the greatest powers of necromancy._

She let the birdfaced alchemist go. Plague Knight moaned quietly and curled up under his multiple quilts, going deeper into wishful dreams, of dreams to become the strongest man and to be one his beloved would love.

The Enchantress tapped into the orb and thought of the last knight.

 _My most promising knight. Your power grows with every passing second._

 _The son of shadows, born of pure anger, sorrowful memory, and hopeless wishes._

 _Specter Knight._

Red and gray turbulently swam around in the sphere. The image formed was of a peaceful village, sun shining so brightly and children playing around. His wide hat shielded his exposed skin from possibly harmful sunlight, and his smile was small and genuine when the baker handed him a basket of his previous life's favorite food. He then quietly sat in a table for one to enjoy his baguette, cut lengthwise in half and toasted lightly with garlic cloves and butter on one side. He looked completely at peace, as if not minding that he might be watched over by someone and the fact that he was the entire Valley's dreaded Specter Knight. Women were whispering with each other in hushed whispers, noting that he was blessed with the face of the perfect angel, wondering what his name was, and giggling at the idea of being _with_ him.

The specter didn't appear to mind. He was too engrossed with the idea of suppressing the burn of the garlic on his unholy body so that he could consume something other than souls in high spirits.

Her violet eyes went wide in horror, and the purple flames illuminating her lair flared up.

 _NO! No, no, this is not happening!_

Specter Knight, disguised in his past life's body and face, was mingling peacefully with the living.

 _Unacceptable!_

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for odd.**_

 _Something's not right about today_ , Irma thought to herself as she entered the bakery with enough copper pieces to buy two large loaves of bread. Upon sight of her, all men and women stood and put their pastries down, watching her with small smiles.

 _One of their saviors._

"Make way. Five is coming!" A man called out from the inside of the shop. The men and women all obliged, directing the revolutionary leader to the inside of the shop and to the bread displays. She threw them a kind and thankful smile as she entered, the copper coins in her hand ready to be placed on the counter for the shopkeeper.

She met gazes with a familiar man, with lovely golden locks tied behind his head with a white band, skin that looked a little too pale for a healthy person, a scarlet coat for a rich nobleman, and… bread crumbs all over his mouth. His lips looked too buttery for a normal person, and judging from the type of bread he was devouring happily, he loved garlic bread a lot. By a lot, she meant, _passionately._

She let out a soft 'huh' and stared at him in curiosity, jaw hung a little.

He stared back at her, initially in pure shock, then a split second of thought, and then watchful observation. Her memory clicked – the ghost man sitting on a crate holding a piece of garlic bread, which was one of the least bought foods in the Valley, and then suddenly disappearing when he touched her hand.

He was that man. And there was a basket of garlic bread sitting on his table. It's him. It's the garlic bread spook. She raised a brow at him, and the ghost man just tilted his head to his right with the innocent question of 'what?' in his crimson eyes. She shrugged, and dropped her coins into the waiting palm of the shop owner. Someone behind her elbowed her with a huge grin. She glared darkly at the gray-eyed man behind her.

"Handsome, isn't he?" Siegfried murmured lowly with a dopey grin on his face, gesturing at the garlic bread ghost a few steps away from them. "Every woman outside is talking about him. Why don't you try to win him over?"

 _Odd thing number two. Big brother is being eccentric, but that's quite normal anyway. No, he's being a shipper again._ "Please be normal today. As if I haven't been seeing peculiar things in this hour."

"Oh? What peculiar things?"

Five glanced back at the ghost, who looked more concerned than carefree. She changed the subject immediately. "You glare at suitors, and it only helps that you're _One._ I have grown associated with this behavior. Please maintain this personality?"

"You'll get married. I know it. I just have to make sure your husband is not what he seems to be!" He glanced back at the beautiful man in scarlet eating his garlic bread in peace. "Besides, this man looks sophisticated and rich. I'm sure he could be a good partner for you."

The disguised apparition resisted the urge to smack his forehead on the hardwood surface of the table. Specter Knight stared at them with brows furrowed in awkwardness, meeting the equally awkward gaze of the lower-ranked rebel leader. If his buddies were with him, they would most likely go as far as to set up an elaborate but predictable scheme. But seeing that their souls were not there, he was both safe… and sad.

"I'd like to stay free of marriage." She snapped, biting into her bread loaf while scowling at her older brother.

The older brother gasped dramatically, as if hearing scandalous news. "Irma!"

"What?"

"I want nephews and nieces!"

She gasped sharply. "We aren't talking about this in _uniform_ , brother."

" _I am One and I am the supreme ruler of the Revolution! I order you to talk about this here."_

"Ffffiiinnne."

Meanwhile, Specter Knight chuckled, the memory of his friends dragging him out of a certain tavern playing in his mind.

" _Tall, blond, and handsome! He's the best-looking bachelor in the army! Also the smartest in the Royal Special Guard! Threw bananas when his staff broke! Everyone! Fall for him! Make us happy!"_

" _Unhand me, you muffins, as I can kill you with your own moustaches and a grape!"_

 _Like it only happened yesterday,_ he sighed inwardly _._

He watched his enemies banter at each other, one reasoning out that having children was enjoyable and the _process_ of making children is _so much fun_ and _has a lot of possibilities_ while the other cited practicing celibacy until the evil has been purged from the Valley. It was fun to observe his opponents show their true colors and start bickering at each other. The topic shifted instantly to their sister who seemed to be only fourteen years of age, and then to reasoning out that nieces and nephews could come from this sister.

 _Kill them now._

His crimson eyes widened. That wasn't his own voice. It was a woman, low and borderline seductive. It's _her._

 _Kill them as if you've always wanted them dead..._

Specter Knight clenched his teeth, hissing harshly at the foreign voice in his mind. "I am trying to have my peace, damn it. Leave me alone."

 _Don't you want murder today? You're different now… you always loved the taste and the scent of blood. You have spilled rivers of blood and you want to halt now, of all times? End them now._

He cast one last glance at the siblings before grabbing his basket of bread and striding outside. He snatched his wide-brimmed scarlet hat off the hat rack by the shop's doors. He met Irma's imploring gaze again, and then nodded to her with a blank expression. He hurried out of the shop, the doors swinging shortly after he left.

"Huh. He always looked so familiar, too." Siegfried muttered. He stood up and grabbed his sister's wrist and followed the man.

Specter Knight strode down the cobble street, turning into a dark alley and reverting back to his normal phantom form, his fair skin turning gray and then black, his flesh withering away, and his angelic features turning into black shadowy mass before metal materialized over his face to cover his monstrous form. His coat quickly grew longer and turned thin and tattered, and his white-gold armor replacing his shirt and pants. He cradled his basket of his favorite bread in the world, the memoir of his life of good.

 _You dare to turn a deaf ear to your true nature, Specter Knight. You can never deny that you are a monster._

"I am an evil creature, born of darkness," he whispered defiantly, "but you and I know about angels."

There was a pregnant pause.

 _See me immediately._

He growled in fury at _her_ , his claws beginning to glow. Being tethered to a powerful magic was so much like being restrained by a leash and chains. Like a powerless slave having to obey a master in order to live. He was his own master, no one else, but to remain in the realm of the living was his ultimate goal, and nothing else would hinder him from getting his own good ending.

Loud footsteps broke his trance. He glanced back, two warm bodies bursting and surrounded by life approaching his position. Summoning some powerful dark magic, he then swiftly became a swirling mass of red to teleport back to the Lich Yard.

Siegfried and Irma found him, quickly disappearing into a tiny point. Two small pieces of the mass separated from the point, and Irma raced to grab one. She caught the tiny piece of cloth, which stopped shrinking as soon as she touched it. Siegfried attempted to catch the other, but it disappeared just before his large calloused hand could grab it.

"That is odd." Siegfried noted. Irma examined the thin cloth, squirming on its own against her grasp like a trapped worm.

 _Odd thing number three… this is fascinating. This wiggly cloth tickles a bit. I wonder if it's his._

"Oh well. Five, let's go. We still have a war meeting."

"That's the normal Siegfried."

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for order.**_

"This insurgency has gone out of control, King Knight." The Enchantress coldly said, staring down at the usurper below her. There was a soft _whoosh_ , and swirls of red and black materialized in the hall, reforming into the feared reaper of the Valley. Specter Knight moved behind King Knight and knelt before the sorceress. She waved a wrist, and then the apparition floated back to the shadows in the room.

"I am consulting with military advisors on the capture of the village in the fork, your Greatness." King Knight reasoned calmly. "It is a strategic move. We will slice their power in half, and then coordinate with the other knights for subsequent attacks on the northern side of the revolt."

She growled in irritation. "None of you knights seem to be in _good_ relations with each other. How would you do that?"

"I can convince the others. If this revolt becomes too powerful, our dominion may be removed from the Valley." King Knight mused. "It worked with Specter Knight."

Her rage started simmering hotter, and glared at the apparition. "Specter Knight."

"He has agreed to assist me in eliminating this threat, albeit on… personal interests."

"Care to explain, my _loyal_ knight?"

The phantom scoffed. "There is truly no threat on the sovereignty of the Lich Yard."

"Do you expect that all other knights in the Order of No Quarter have no threats to their own power?"

"I work for my own. And I have mentioned to King Knight that I will periodically assist when the time is right. You ordered me to keep away from this problem."

She hissed in fury, placing a fist under her chin. "I understand that I did order you to let King Knight with this, but with the insurgency gaining power and territory by the day, it has become too big of a problem. I order you to focus your power to mitigating this problem. King Knight, you may leave. Specter Knight, I request you to stay."

King Knight straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and bowed a little. "Thank you." He turned around on his heel and stole a split-second glance at the reaper. He sent a concerned frown his way, and then quickly sauntered to get out of the forlorn sanctum. He pushed open the door and disappeared swiftly when he closed it.

As soon as the door clocked shut, the room became brightly lit with violet flames.

"Your specialty is mentally destroying your opponents before you execute, Specter Knight. The cruelty of your actions only serves to terrify your enemies and make them fall apart before you finally deliver the last blow. Am I correct?"

Specter Knight hung his head slightly, sighing deeply. "Correct."

"And you desired all of this. To become darkness incarnate."

"Yes."

"I granted that wish of yours, and it escapes me to think of a reason why you still cling to your past life."

"I cannot help but remember it."

The Enchantress sighed. "If I take away your memories, your skill will be gone. If I let it stay, you will continue to hinder your path to true power."

He did not utter anything. He recalled the image of his smiling friends, his childhood 'sweetheart', his mother, and everyone who had wronged him. Conflicting emotions revolted, clashing against each other in his mind and heart and soul.

"Your skill is what I need, Specter Knight. But I will see to it that these memories will be controlled."

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for overly sentimental.**_

"Controlled?" Specter Knight half-gasped. He struggled to keep his mind off the implications. "Suppressed?"

"Exactly. I need you to prevent these memories from hindering your power."

His thoughts went back to the shiny gold and sapphire blue locket in his new 'home', kept within a locked and secure chest in a secret room. "It will be a hard task to follow."

"Nothing is hard for you. I am willing to give you time to improve on this crippling condition." She let her back rest on the post, and then grinned maliciously at the confused knight by the ground. "To assist you, as I shall guide you to be able to handle true domination, I shall give you one simple order."

He wasn't sure of what to think. She held up her hands, a large sphere of lavender and purple materializing over her palms. The moving picture of two knights in armor and navy blue capes appeared, one of them tall, with steel-gray eyes and a doting smile on his face, and the other a little shorter with brown hair and an annoyed expression. They were in some sort of a brick house. Behind them were a polished stone wall splattered with glowing liquid and a somehow unharmed potted plant.

Siegfried halted, and appeared to call out to someone. He was then tackled in a hug by a smaller version of Irma with the same dirty blond color of the older brother's. He picked the little girl up and returned her embrace. The unemotional expression on Irma softened a bit as she pat the girl's head.

"Torment them." The Enchantress firmly stated. "You have interacted with the rebellion's leaders. Do you not agree that they are the most vulnerable to your power? Siblings fighting together in war."

"War cannot be won by protecting your loved ones."

She smiled. "I suppose you know what to do, my most potent and formidable knight." She let the orb dissolve into nothing, and descended down to him. She placed her hand over his face, her evil power streaming to his spirit, without him detecting the surge of influence into his soul. "After all… this is what you are now."

"I am a demon." He murmured to himself dejectedly.

"You are." She sneered. "Now, go… and execute."

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for ominous.**_

Albrecht sifted through the mountainous piles of letters, sighing at the hopeless amount of girls' mail to his boss. The letters towered over even him, and there were practically ten more hills of paper to sort through.

The fan letters were half-curses and half-blessings for the Hoverhaft. Mostly, the bane was all about his self-appointed job of arranging the envelopes into neat stacks. That mountain will be the fan letters. The other mountain will be the amnesty and treaty letters from the Seven Knights of the Pridemoor Revolt (although the Flying Machine never felt their presence at all) and from the kingdom itself. So many papers to sign, so many to acknowledge, so many restrictions. The others were just reconciliation letters from the other Order Knights, especially from Plague Knight, who seemed to be quite insecure about his messages and sent dozens of letters all saying the same thing but with different words. He appeared to ask about reserving the deck of the Flying Machine for a romantic dinner. Other than that, there were questions, thousands of them, asking about what to do in a dinner, what gifts he should give, et cetera. The alchemist wasn't even sure with trivial subjects like how big the rosebuds should be, or what dance is the most romantic aside from the waltz. Even the friendly Propeller Knight would have a migraine with all of the questions.

One of the blessings were that he could do something more for his generous superior. He recalled a time when he was scared out of his wits in his first day with the French crew, now his loyal and close friends. Propeller Knight was the kindest man in his life, and offered to guide him through the face of the unknown. What quality is more likable for men than unconditional support?

The other blessing was the alone time to hide his coughing.

Among the ridiculous amount of unsorted mail, a white envelope with red and blue decorative designs of lilies and roses stood out among the plain whites and yellows. The golden seal on its flap caught his eye. Albrecht pulled the envelope out and read the writing on the back.

His gray-blue eyes widened when he saw his master's full name written. His knight title was gone.

" _Was?_ " He sputtered out, springing back up to his feet, ran out, and screamed his superior's name. "Propeller Knight! Sire! _Wir haben ein Problem! Wo sind Sie?!_ "

The Frenchman heard the urgent calls of his favorite underling, and walked calmly to the jittery Hoverhaft. He put on a considerate smile to try and calm him down. "It must be a big problem for you to slip back in German-"

"See this!" Albrecht practically thrust the letter to the captain's chest.

Propeller Knight fumbled for the letter. His brows creased when he read the name of the sender.

"Monsieur Bonnefoy… second most-powerful in France." Propeller Knight muttered as his previous sunny disposition vanished instantly.

"I saw your whole name, and zhey didn't write your title."

"I can see that." He carefully ripped off the seal and pulled out the letter, or letters, inside. The first one was in the careful writing of his _maman_ , the strokes still as lovely and caring as ever. He wondered if the dark out-of-place spots were teardrops that had stained the paper.

 _My son,_

 _Weeks have passed, and I still have not heard from you. I dream of you in my sleep every night. You weep, you cry, and it aches me to watch you. Before I can hold you and keep you safe from whatever that is hurting your poor heart, you vanish like smoke, and I wake promptly. At times I can touch your face in dreams, and that is when you are lying on the cold floor and you are not moving._

 _I sincerely worry for your life, my dear._

 _The king of France is considering banishing you and removing your title. He says that he can send a force to assassinate you and remove you from the world. It hurts me to hear news of you getting killed in such a dishonorable way. I do not want you dead. I do not want to live my life knowing your body is rotting somewhere in a foreign land, never to be seen again by my weary eyes._

 _So, I consulted with Monsieur Bonnefoy._

 _He was not the manipulative general they say almost obliterated the Bavarian Order of Knights, at least, when I saw him. He is a generous man. He reminds me so much of you in both manners and gait – he walks as if he dances and he speaks so much of love like you do._

 _I told him about you, how he reminds me of you. I almost wept and lost composure, but he caught me, a frail old woman, and calmly talked. I said that you will never join the Order of No Quarter because of two reasons. You are too much of a good son and noble, with so much good influence. You will never become an Order of No Quarter knight, even with your spite against us, your parents. You also have the German warrior. Also, your German subordinate is the only thing preventing the king from sending the hitman to you._

 _Speaking of him, maybe it is time to meet this man properly in person. Our first and only meeting went as bad as you know it was._

 _The lovely general vowed to conduct an investigation and protect you from anything. Innocent until proven guilty, he says, but if the findings consider you guilty, you will be executed and the German transferred. This is the only saving grace you have now._

 _I know you are innocent._

 _Please return home. I love you._

 _Maman._

"Albrecht, thank you very much for saving my life." Propeller Knight closed his eyes and smiled. He breathed deeply, and then rubbed his eyes.

"Vhat did I do now?"

"The king wants me dead. You are the only one that makes him hesitate to kill me."

The German raised a brow. "I suppose my power is too much. Are zhey afraid of my country?"

"My mother wants me home. Reading her letters… I want to go home."

"You still have anozher letter."

"Ah, yes." Propeller Knight shifted to the lavender paper and read the short message.

 _I order you to return to France._

 _Bonnefoy._

"And it seems that I literally cannot go anywhere but France." He snickered. "I'm going to die."

Albrecht gasped. "Should I call for a resupply of armaments and cannonballs?"

Propeller Knight laughed, and waved his wrist. "You want to declare war with France again?"

Albrecht shrugged. "Not exactly. I shall be off, zhen. I might order an entire decade's vorzh of explosives from Plague Knight, considering zhat he has been sending reservation letters."

"What reservation letters?"

"He wants zhe deck for a 'date'."

"Ah. The Mona girl?"

"How zhe hell should I know?"

"I think we can leave after that 'date'." Propeller Knight mused happily. "Wine and turkey. Wait. Plague Knight is a bird. Is he a real bird?"

"Potatoes are a better idea." Albrecht nodded. "Potato wedges. I miss home."

"Well, buy some potatoes for yourself, too. Ask the Gastronomer from the Village if you need anything. I want to be alone for the day."

"If zhere is anyzhing that bozhers you, call for me." The Hoverhaft turned around and walked away.

"You are a good friend."

Albrecht paused, and sighed with a little smile. He continued, and when he got out of earshot, he coughed.

The Frenchman went to the direction of the open deck, the lovely smile of a mask dropping. He stepped to the edge of the deck, the tips of his shoes toeing the line between floor and empty space, and stared down at the distant earth below the airship. He held the guard railing weakly with one hand and cupped his somber face with the other.

The mountains, with their summits capped with snow, and the meadows, lush with greens and flowers, all looked dull and lifeless in his eyes.

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for ornate.**_

"I learned that if a person is quite obsessed with something in his or her adult years, it might have stemmed from a lack of that something in the developing years…" Mole Knight stole a side glance at King Knight. "I wonder."

" _You know, the king told us not to treat you badly." The well-dressed gentleman, or to the young, thin lad, harsh-man, coldly muttered to the servant boy. "But I can tell you off, you bastard. Not even the king can say otherwise. All agree with me. "_

 _The shy servant looked down, his matted platinum blond hair shaggy and uncut. His bright yet dead eyes looked down to the stone floor, and to the polished shoes of the grown-up before him, and to his cold and unprotected feet._

 _Life… was so unfair._

" _Return it at once." The healthy and fat hand of the man was held out in front of the poor boy's face. Dread filled the child's mind, the lines of the man's hand memorized, the shade of fair complexion known too well._

 _At least it wasn't too close to his face to cause his cheek to be swollen and red._

" _Return it!" The man snapped. The boy, with a trembling hand, fished out a gold ring with a ruby fixed on it and placed it on the man's open palm. The gentleman's fingers enclosed around the ring, and before the boy knew it, the fist had already collided with his chin._

" _I'm sorry!" The boy quivered, his pale and cold hand covering his chin and mouth. He felt wetness roll down his cheeks, and on his lip as well. "It just looked so pretty…"_

" _Accept that these," the ring was held out in full view before it was tucked away in his coat pocket, "will never grace the fingers of bastard sons like you are. You cannot change your fate. You were born to be a miscreant child. Fate decided the course of your life since the day you were conceived."_

" _It's unfair." The child sobbed._

" _It is completely fair, child. Do not weep for your destiny."_

 _ **.**_

 _ **O is for old.**_

 _I am getting old and weary,_ he thought to himself _._ So much experience in this world, so much that it could already mean that he was to die soon, but there was still a problem he can never leave behind without him seeing its conclusion.

His poor daughter, held captive by a preternatural evil power. He couldn't leave her behind.

He loved her very much.

 _The Stalwart watched silently and warily at the three children playing cheerfully on the snowy fields. Even before he let the children play, he had already scanned the underside of the blanket of snow if there were branches that could break ankles or sharp pebbles that could injure them horribly. He already designated a tight perimeter of their play area, and shoveled most of the snow away for safety._

 _Three children, the two boys wielding toy shovels and the sole girl holding an old wooden toy shield, then started a snow fight. They were all laughing – the brown-eyed boy with wild dark hair catapulting tiny poffs of snow at his friends. The girl held her shield up and protected her face from the barrage of snowballs, but the other one with the toy shovel withstood the onslaught of snowballs. He screamed and laughed, quickly building himself a small mound of snow when the other stopped to reload his ice-based ammunition._

 _Polar Knight dug up a huge amount of snow and launched it over to the blue-eyed tiny child. "Incoming!"_

 _The knight chuckled when the kid he just provided reinforcement to apparently didn't know about the giant snowball already in motion in midair. He moved forward despite the loud warning of his friends, and promptly got buried in the cold snow. Only his head wasn't covered by the white snow, and his friends laughed merrily at his ridiculous appearance._

" _You're the snowman!" The girl giggled._

" _Snowman! Snowman! Snowman!" The wild haired boy cackled, and mischievously launched another set of snowballs on top of the laughing 'snowman'._

Time passes by so fast for old men. For the elderly knight, it definitely was the case. He had done so many things, like take care of his children, children-in-law, and his children's friends, set up a new Order of Knights with a new code of Shovelry, recruit many more disciples in the same Order, fight off evil that threatened his area of supervision, and many more things. He took up knitting and crocheting when doing nothing, and his daughter would tease him so much about it.

It seemed like an hour from when those three cute children were playing outside in the winter to when those same children grew up to become powerful legends.

" _Black Knight!" Shield Knight called out in a sing-song voice, waving happily at the short warrior in black and red armor. Black Knight had only turned his head a little when he felt the weight of an entire human crash on his shoulders. The passersby chuckled at the display of Shield Knight fondly glomping the feared Black Knight._

" _You are an expert in diminishing my good reputation." Black Knight muttered in a low voice. He glanced at the cerulean knight behind her, who only shrugged at him._

" _You are an expert in refusing hugs." She answered back. "You know, we've been together since, well, since I was born! You were literally in the house when Mother gave birth to me!"_

" _That doesn't really give you an excuse."_

" _It does. But anyway, I'm here to invite you to an adventure in the Tower of… uhh…" She gestured to the ugly black tower surrounded by dark green clouds in the distance to the north, "whatever. That bad-looking tower there. Not the silver one, but the taller one with the clouds."_

" _Tower of Fate." Black Knight said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But I can't go with you. I'm going home."_

" _Who gave that name?"_

" _I don't know. How should I know?"_

" _What fate befalls me there?"_

" _Money. Fame. More praise."_

" _I'm here to offer my services, and it just so happens that I get paid by the king. You make it sound so bad." She crossed her arms and mockingly pouted. "There's nothing wrong with keeping bad elements at bay."_

" _Shovel Knight, why aren't you talking?" Black Knight glared his Stare of Doom at the blue burrower._

" _Pardon me, Black Knight. Whenever Shield Knight talks, I find it very hard to speak my mind because she tends to speak faster than I can form a polite thought."_

 _Black Knight resisted the obvious friendly nitpicking on his friend's chronic chivalry illness. He waved it off and turned back to Shield Knight, who was already fishing for something in her small pouch._

" _What are you doing?"_

" _You're going home, right? Can you send this to Father?" Shield Knight softly said as she pulled out a neatly folded paper and handed it to Black Knight. "I'm planning on getting a break this year's winter, and I'm going home when I get that vacation."_

" _Yes. I'll give this to Polar Knight."_

" _Dear gods, Black Knight, the formalities! You're calling him 'Polar Knight'?" Shield Knight poked the side of his spiky helmet. "A bit of edge has grown in on you! He's a little edgy, don't you think, Shovel Knight?"_

 _He just groaned in defeat._

" _What is edgy?" Shovel Knight tilted his head in confusion._

 _Her jovial grin instantly turned into an expression that could only say 'how long have you been lagging behind modern language?'._

 _/*later that year*/_

" _So that's what she told you?" Polar Knight teased, opening the folded letter._

" _She said I'm 'edgy'! What is 'edgy', even?"_

" _To tell you the truth, I don't know. Perhaps in the future, I will meet an 'edgy' person, and I can compare justly."_

" _Do you want to go to Pridemoor? By now, I think she is done adventuring in the Tower of Fate. Let's ask her what 'edgy' is."_

" _You didn't ask her?!"_

" _She won't answer!"_

And so they began the long journey to the kingdom of Pridemoor, where Shovel Knight and Shield Knight went adventuring together. Polar Knight stopped at the snowy area of the Stranded Ship, and let Black Knight go first.

They, however, did not expect the grave news that Shield Knight was apparently killed in the Tower, and Shovel Knight had retreated to the southern farms in grief. Black Knight had been too furious that Shovel Knight failed to protect Shield Knight, and had done quite the frightening actions of terror in the country. During the time Black Knight let out all of his contempt and rage at Shovel Knight to innocent people, Polar Knight experienced something else.

" _Join me in my new Order of No Quarter, Polar Knight, and I will give you all you desire."_

 _Polar Knight stared at the sorceress hovering before him, her entire form radiating with dreaded power. The scythed monster behind her, while obviously new to everything around and about himself, held his sinister weapon, ready to strike. Polar Knight felt the chill of fear down his spine - he could only help but stare uneasily at the face of the witch, her eyes were of the same shape of Shield Knight's, even the beauty mark below her left eye, the lips were uncannily hers, and the shape of the face…_

 _This wretched demoness was Shield Knight._

 _His warrior's instincts took over the worry. If he refused, he'd get killed in one way or another, by the sorceress herself or the apparition with her. Dying was not an option._

" _What's your verdict, legendary knight?" She asked again._

 _His time was running up. The apprehension started to take over his thoughts again._

 _A half-baked plan hatched in his mind. He could join this Order of No Quarter, observe Shield Knight closely, have Black Knight calm the hell down and try to figure out the reversal magic of whatever thing happened to take over Shield Knight, get her free, and bring back Shovel Knight too._

" _I accept." Polar Knight answered willfully… and hopefully._

" _Good choice." The Enchantress nodded, and disappeared in a flash of violet light. Only he and the phantom remained. The latter appeared to drop his shoulders for a second before he also dematerialized in spirals of red cloth._

Afterwards, everything seemed like a blur. Black Knight and Polar Knight had gone on together to talk about what they learned or observed. Then, the Enchantress found them talking, started offering black Knight membership in the Order, and then the genius shovel wielder just started talking to Shield Knight… as if she could emerge from the dark magicks that imprisoned her within. The Enchantress just repeated her question until she just went away. The entire process would repeat. Enchantress comes to Black Knight, Black Knight tries speaking to Shield Knight, Enchantress teleports away. Trying to coax out Shield Knight's soul didn't appear to work, and both Polar Knight and Black Knight were dismayed.

Calling for help to Shovel Knight didn't even seem to be the best idea. The people surrounding the blue burrower were already wary of both of them, and they couldn't bring themselves to brave through the weak farmers with only pitchforks to tell Shovel Knight that his beloved was trapped by whatever evil being inhabited her body.

Death seemed like a more merciful option for the grieving Shovel Knight to believe in. Polar Knight thought that telling him their discovery would lead to the Enchantress killing him should he rush headfirst to saving Shield Knight.

Polar Knight stood up from the ground when he heard the pained screams of the ice wizzems a few rooms away. Someone was invading his ship.

He recalled the news that Shovel Knight was back in action. The mayhem must be caused by him. His heart raced in excitement. How long had he been estranged from his son-in-law?

He heard that Shovel Knight had done so much things in the past few weeks, things the Stalwart could applaud him for. King Knight was defeated and dragged away from the throne by the revolutionaries. Specter Knight _somehow_ suffered defeat from his former student, and Polar Knight could not help but express doubt at the defeated specter… almost as if he let himself be subdued. Plague Knight was overcome by the determination of the burrower, Mole Knight was overpowered, and Treasure Knight lost many of his riches to him. Tinker Knight was defeated not long ago.

He was next.

But he can stop the onslaught before Shovel Knight could step in the Flying Machine. The airship was quite hard to penetrate, and the gracious Propeller Knight honestly didn't deserve to be beaten.

He can stop him, and tell him of Shield Knight's true state in the Tower of Fate. All three of them can storm the Tower, and with their combined power they could save her from the Enchantress.

He can finally save his daughter…

The strong gut feeling of a pair of eyes scrutinizing his every twitch suddenly overcame him. He could feel where exactly _she_ was looking through. Those were his daughter's eyes, not _hers_ , and they should only be used by Shield Knight… and Shield Knight only _._ He sighed deeply in misery as Shovel Knight walked in front of him.

"Hmph."

"So, my old friends… the day has finally come." Shovel Knight's voice was still the same tenacious voice that he grew accustomed to for the years they had fought together.

"This will be our final duel."

"Should we not lay down our shovels and part as equals?"

 _I would happily do so if it weren't for the Enchantress watching me._ "Hmph. The Order has no equals. Surely you can recognize power. Join us." _Join us and save Shield Knight._

"You've forgotten our oath! What happened to the proud warrior I knew?"

 _Entertain her. You're doing good._ "Hmph! No more words. The bitter cold will claim you."

Polar Knight wondered if _she_ knew his last statement was directed at her.

 _ **Up next: P is for pun.**_

 _Translations:_

 _Je suis ton ami – I am your friend_

 _Wir haben ein Problem! Wo sind Sie?! – We have a problem! Where are you?_

 _Yes, I know I put in Francis Bonnefoy's last name, and I just can't help it._


	16. P is for pun

_To Monkey999Boy: Yes, they all deserve happiness! We can all expect good endings for all of them… maybe. Maybe._

 _Today is August 28! August 28 is my birthday! Yahoo! As a birthday blessing gift, please be showered with bad puns and dramatic tension! No, but seriously. I wanted P is for pun to be uploaded on my [REDACTED] revolution around the Sun so I half-apologize for this tardiness._

 _This is also 30 pages long, by the way._

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for pun. There's a 99% chance of punstorm and it's coming right at ya.**_

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, a determined warrior, bursting with hyper light determination that can send the most evil of villains running away, named Shovel Knight told many puns, both good and bad in quality!

/*Flying Machine*/

"You eat PAIN for breakfast." He told the French flyboy while wearing one of his stupid grins and holding a tiny croissant in his tiny hand. Propeller Knight only laughed along. 'Pain' is French for 'bread'.

"You lift my mood! Tell us more." Propeller Knight chuckled and discreetly elbowed his unamused German friend. "Hey, Albrecht, why aren't you laughing? Our _petit ami_ here is well known for his penchant for good jokes!"

"Hmph." The Hoverhaft crossed his arms. "I don't laugh."

"You sound just like Polar Knight."

"Hey, hey, listen, I have one!" Shovel Knight chimed in. "What country has so much riches?"

"What is it, _mon ami_?"

"Ger-MONEY!" He loudly chortled at his own joke afterwards.

Propeller Knight could barely contain his French laughing, and Albrecht could barely resist the urge to smack the blue shoveler in the face. With his halberd. And fling something at him. Like the table. And his master along with the flying table. His country's official name was the Imperial German States, actually, and not exactly Germany!

"Hey, another one! What do the French call a bad Thursday? A TraJEUDI!"

The Frenchman crumpled to the floor, his stomach transmuting into titanium and his laugh actually fading into silence. He wheezed every now and then. Ten seconds in the cackling he couldn't breathe anymore, and he had to spend a full minute just to catch his breath.

"Hey, Hoverhaft, I have a joke for you." Shovel Knight giggled.

"I am _unflappable._ " Albrecht boasted with a stern face. "Hit me vizh zhe best pun you have. Do your vorst!"

Propeller Knight wiped the happy tears off his cheeks. "If you don't laugh, lunch for everyone in the crew will be _currywurst_ and breaded prawn. If you do, you're making me lots of _pot-au-feu_! Lots and lots of it! I love _pot-au-feu!_ "

"Fine."

"Okay. So, what do German machines always tell each other?"

"I don't know. What."

"They say, ' _warum, warum_ '!"

 _The letter 'w' is pronounced as English 'v' in German._

 _He knows it. Oh no._

 _Shovel Knight… that pun…! No!_

Albrecht's lips were quivering, his face betraying his forced attempt to control the laughter that might explode from him. Fortunately, his trusty visor protected him, but not for long. His arms tensed, and his grip on his omnipresent weapon began to slip. It didn't take too long for him to make strangled cackling noises.

Suffice to say, Propeller Knight enjoyed a nice, nutritious, and sumptuous lunch of _pot-au-feu_ , begrudgingly cooked by a defeated subordinate.

Everyone in the crew got _pot-au-feu_ as well.

As for Albrecht... Propeller Knight secretly cooked _currywurst_ for him.

/*Pridemoor Keep, Order of No Quarter-only chamber*/

"We have to heavily fortify this village…" King Knight pointed to a large town a little bit to the west of Pridemoor Keep.

"Yes." Specter Knight unhelpfully agreed, only nodding while being absorbed in his deep and personal thoughts, which may or may not have involved thinking of ways to stop accidentally flirting with women with a glance (because he knew he was _absolutely_ _stunningly handsome_ and just seemed to shoot evil love beams every time he just came into the presence of a girl) _. He just wanted_ to buy some of his favorite food, not attract the entire female population!

"And recapture this one…"

"Yes."

"And harvest the potato crops in this farm for food rations…"

"Yes."

King Knight raised a brow at his uncooperative undead 'friend'. "Assassinate any amount of rebel leader as long as there is at least one survivor…"

" _Oh yes._ "

King Knight creased his brows in worry of his immediate health. The dead man floating beside him was already listening quite intently, his undead eyes staring into his own as if trying to read his entire life from birth to that very second. A slightly awkward moment transpired before the usurper pointed to the part of the map circled with red ink. "Decrease their morale by conducting a counterattack if they ever gain this area…"

"Yes."

"Gods dammit, Specter Knight! Why are you not assisting me as I require you?!"

A sharp but subtle response instantly formed in his mind. "Because you are a mortal borne of dull intellige-"

Divine light filled the dark war room, the sound of waves crashing to the shore and seven jubilant notes playing the theme of the holy yacht gods. A tiny orb of light floated from the 'heavens' and floated down to the two knights, eventually gaining the form of a certain blue-armored burrower whose secondary job is to pepper everyone's lives with bad puns, regardless of which side taken by the receiver of the pun.

Shovel Knight bravely pointed a finger to the puzzled apparition and said, with a great booming voice, "Because, King Knight, you see, he likes to go… SOUL-o!"

The pun immediately clicked for Specter Knight while King Knight lagged behind and had to stare up at the ceiling to process the joke. The downside of having clever wits and astute state of mind was that… well, really dumb puns figuratively flick a switch in his mind that immediately catapults his mood from "stoic and peaceful calm" to "infernal anger".

"Ohhhh! Soul! O!" King Knight snapped his fingers and chuckled. This only placed his teammate's mood to "homicidal rage", and it wasn't pretty.

" _You miserable loaf, I will kill you when we see each other again!"_ Specter Knight screeched, bright yellow flames manifesting on his claws.

"See you soon!" Shovel Knight mockingly stuck his tongue out and put his hands on his hips as the holy music played. He departed the area in bright, heavenly light.

/*Pridemoor Keep again, after Tower of Fate*/

King Knight set his bucket of water on a ceiling beam while he angrily swept the floor. He grumbled curses against the king, against his enemies, against the successful revolt (which somehow won despite the combined stress and torture the Enchantress cruelly planned out), against the Enchantress, and especially against Shovel Knight.

"Curse you, Shovel Knight, for taking away my throne from me-"

The mischievous forces of physics toppled the bucket and drenched the former 'king' in sudsy water. He swore he could hear a small blue man crack a joke in the distance.

"So, you're now soaKING, huh?"

/*Iron Whale*/

Treasure Knight ominously turned around; his anchor hand nestled on his other arm. He glared at the tiny, blurry, and blue man some steps away from him.

"My gems… my vessel… my ocean-"

"Hey, I just thought of something." Shovel Knight interrupted thoughtfully. "What sea creature always screams?"

"…what."

"A WHALE!"

"… fuck you."

/*a certain lovely beach near the Iron Whale*/

Tinker Knight's attempt to surf a wave had proved to be absolutely disastrous.

Mole Knight's quake devices shook too much and Specter Knight wanted to show off his sheer telekinetic power. The result, according to three Liquid Samurai on the scene, was a _tsunami._

The wave of water was over twenty meters tall. Tinker Knight happily surfed in the breaking wave, even touching the wall of water as he sped through. When he looked back at the shore, many things were happening at once.

Propeller Knight was already up and flying higher. He looked out of his own character, looking absolutely ridiculous with his Heli-Helmet's straps around his bare torso. The Frenchman looked less than perfect. Tinker Knight did not even want to recall the green shorts with little yellow fans decorating it. Aka, Midori, and Ao were calling out at the knights, gurgling something about a safe height. King Knight was dashing to them for his life, Polar Knight following closely behind. Plague Knight bomb bursted up and away, gliding chaotically through the air like the explosive avian he is. There were aquatic birds, but the alchemist wasn't exactly looking forward to be a duck that day. Mole Knight appeared out of the sandy dirt just beside the assembling Order of No Quarter. Treasure Knight just sat there on his lookout chair.

Tinker Knight glanced back at the water wall, and shrieked when he was a glimpse of a blue horned helmet. He shrieked and looked away, only to see a panicked looking apparition to his side reaching out his pitch black twig hand to him. He screeched louder, lost his balance, and fell backwards into the seawater.

Drama ensued. The engineer paddled up, but the force of the moving water brought him even lower. He looked up at the surface of the water, and the sunlight that still permeated through the clean blue water.

 _This is… the last time I will see light._

He closed his eyes as dramatically as he can. He was going to go out with whatever _style_ he had _._

Treasure Knight suddenly harrumphed loudly.

When the inventor opened his eyes, he was staring directly into the face, or helmet's glass piece, of Treasure Knight.

"Erright, nrr krrss of lrrfe nrrded!" Treasure Knight said, and then pulled off his helmet to breathe deep.

"Kiss of life?" Tinker Knight sat up, blinking away the salt in his eyes. "WHAT?!"

"Well, it's as if anyone wants to do that." The hoarder shrugged. "Look at them. They'll leave you dead if I found you dead. We _are_ the Order of No Quarter and not the Order of Life Protectors."

"Where is the spooky ghost?" Plague Knight piped up shyly, pointing a green finger at the sea. "He was there, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Where did he go?" Mole Knight turned to the direction of the ocean. "Did he get washed up in the wave, too?"

"I saw him. He _was_ washed up." Tinker Knight helpfully recalled.

The waves crashed into the shoreline, bringing along with it a beyond humiliated phantom. His normally billowy cloak was flat and wet and _not billowing_ , betraying his small and thin body underneath. He lied face down on the sand, not making any motion whatsoever. The red and gold umbrella Polar Knight gave to him miraculously washed up on his spot and shielded him from the bright light of the sun.

"Nrr krrs of lrrfe needrd. Hrr's alrredy drrd."

"Dead knight looks deader than usual." Plague Knight cackled. "He's just a spooky ghost, hee!"

All of a sudden, their worst enemy Shovel Knight popped out of thin air. "I know what to do to _wake this spook."_ He walked down to the motionless specter and loudly yelled into his ear. "Good job, Specter Knight! It was a real cool way to TURN THE TIDE!"

Specter Knight's shriveled claws curled immediately into a fist. A stream of water shot out of the sea and right into Shovel Knight's smug little face. The shoveler was pushed backwards and onto the sand.

" _You will pay for this, you degenerate trowel."_ The ghost murmured into the sand.

Shovel Knight stuck out his tongue and disappeared into thin air.

There was a short moment of silence.

"Is it my fault that I have not done a thing to curb his… punslinging?" Polar Knight muttered.

/*Clockwork Tower*/

Tinker Knight fumed at the presence of the wooden stick that somehow got lodged in the delicate mechanisms of the entire Clockwork Tower, causing the said tower to halt its self-sustaining energy flow. In layman's terms: there was a stick in the gears, gears stop moving, and the lights turn off.

Tinker Knight pulled the stick out. The gears started rotating again, and in a short while, the power was back on.

Shovel Knight stood beside him all along. "You got out of a STICK-y situation there."

"I like your puns. I need some to entertain myself. Write me some puns."

/*Village*/

"No music sheets?" The Bard pursed his lips sadly.

"I'm really having a HARP time looking for music sheets, talented minstrel."

He chuckled lightly. "Oh, man, I wonder if ol' Sean thought of that." The Bard mused while idly plucking the strings of his lute.

"One of the yacht gods? OH!"

"Eeyup. He told us puns some time ago."

" _You communed with the yacht gods?!"_

"Dude, how do you think this happens?" He strummed his magical instrument. Violins, cellos, violas, harps, pianos, drums, bassoons, flutes, oboes, guitars, clarinets, horns, trumpets, kettle drums, tubas, saxophones, xylophones, glockenspiels, a vocal choir, a _shamisen,_ and every other musical instrument in a full orchestra started to play an insane and impossible arrangement of Mozart's _Turkish March._

"Musically, that doesn't make sense. So why don't we play it properly…"

The same composition was then played by an aggressive piano on his lute.

"That's how it actually sounds like."

/*somewhere else at an earlier time*/

The young tiny child with unkempt dark hair and specks of snow still on his head glared a threat of death with angry eyes at the other young tiny child. They were on the staircase, the former at an upper rung and the latter on the lower floor.

"Gimme my toy shovel back!" The former shouted, pointing angrily at the dark-colored shovel in the other's hand.

"I will, if you just stop STAIRing down at me like that!"

/*Plains of Passage*/

Shovel Knight fired his Flare Wand at the blue Liquid Samurai blob. The blob, now formless, drained into the dirt. The shoveler faced the Wandering Travellers.

"I'd hate to com-PLAIN, but I'm getting really hungry."

"Oh my gods it's the greatest punslinger ever!" Reize swooned.

/*Pridemoor Keep… again*/

"… so Mona and I had a date on that French flyboy's airship deck! Things were awkward, but I say so that everything went alright, hee."

"How nice of you. I never thought of you as a LOVEBIRD."

"Hee hee, that's a good one! So, where's _your_ girlfriend?" Plague Knight smiled.

"I can't tell you because SHIELD kill me if anyone else knows where she's resting. She likes it that way."

"… you were born to pun, hee hee." He raised both of his arms up. "I LOVE IT!"

/*Stranded Ship, indefinite time after Tower fall*/

"So, did shovelry start out in winter?" Shovel Knight shrugged.

"Knowing you, I am going to assume that is a pun. I am not sure if I should laugh or not." Polar Knight replied with a low voice. "People do tend to shovel out winter's snow. Is it a joke?"

"Am I on _thin ice_? Hahaha!"

"Now, I am sure that is a pun." He slapped his former student as gently as he could on the back. "I am glad."

/*Village, two days after Tower fall*/

Black Knight approached Shovel Knight with brows creased. _I can not believe I am forced by Shield Knight to ask this._ The dark-armored shoveler tapped his friend's shoulder. Shovel Knight looked up at him with a weary and shocked look on his face.

Black Knight cleared his throat. "Good morning."

"Good morning as well, old friend."

 _Okay. So here's the part where I ask him the question._ "Hey, do you happen to have a pun involving a piano."

"How about piaNO." Shovel Knight chuckled lightly to himself.

Black Knight narrowed his eyes at his buddy. "You know what? I can pummel you to the ground right now, and most probably I will never regret it."

/*Order of No Quarter soirée, just before Tower fall*/

Fists were banged on the table.

The drunken laughter of eight knights echoed throughout the entire evil Tower of Fate.

The Enchantress felt a small urge to zap every single one of them and leave only Specter Knight existing.

Liquid Samurai were confused as to what was supposed to happen.

The dining hall reeked of wine and curious Liquid Samurai liquor.

"I never make requests, but today I shall make an exception. Please stop with telling puns. It grinds my gears." "AHAH! He told a pun! Ghost made a joke!" "It is an expression!" "Hee hee, please tell us more!" "I just said- oh, never mind. You are all drunk. Today is not a good day." "I order you to make more puns!" "I should write these down so I can make some more jokes to the linguistics department tomorrow… does anyone have paper?" "Can you even fucking write with your claws?" " _Si amusant!_ " "Propeller Knight, if you say something in French again, I'll fucking kill you." "Ohon. _Bist du w_ _ütend?"_ "When the actual _hell_ did you learn German?" "Oh, I've been trying to speak German for years already-"

Shovel Knight raised his goblet of… something.

"Shhh!" "Fuck you all, I can't hear shit!" "He's going to tell his next pun!" "Shut up!"

The Order fell into deathly silence. Mole Knight stood up to walk to Shovel Knight and take some notes. Specter Knight attempted to teleport out and be done with his business with the Enchantress, but was held in place by Mole Knight draping his mole claws over his shoulders when he almost stumbled. It was probably the only time Specter Knight sounded like he was sobbing in public.

"I named my shovel "Charges" once."

There was a collective "mhm" from the Order of No Quarter.

"So that when I cross paths with warriors and they want to fight me, I can say… 'I CAN PRESS CHARGES AGAINST YOU'!"

There was a split second of silence before everyone burst laughing.

"Credit goes to the Village Bard near Pridemoor!"

Shovel Knight never forgot his citations even when drunk.

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for pretty.**_

/*Tower of Fate*/

"The rain looks so surreal and… beautiful, despite the fact it is supposed to be frightening." Propeller Knight swished his glass of red wine and looked to his personal guard by his side. "Look, Albrecht, beauty can still come from the very heart of evil."

"I'm not so sure vhat to zhink about it. If it is evil, it is my duty to vanquish it, but seeing as ve are trapped here…"

The Frenchman sighed and grinned romantically, with half-lidded eyes. "Enough of that. Do you know what else is beautiful?"

Albrecht glared at him in bewilderment, many terrifying things coursing through his imagination. "Uhhhh… _was?_ "

" _Moi."_

The Hoverhaft raised his brow at him and groaned.

Propeller Knight sipped his wine with the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster. "I am beautiful, Albrecht. _Ohonhon._ "

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for potato.**_

He was on his second day with the French people he was going to work with indefinitely.

But even with the kind captain's reassurance, Albrecht still felt like an outcast.

The German-French exchange service started to feel like a very bad attempt for cordial friendship.

 _He's the new one. I heard he's from the Prussian Order of Knights._

 _Wasn't it Prussi_ _a_ _that almost took over Eastern France?_

 _Prussia is now the head state of the German Kingdom. Last time I checked, Prussia was the one that initiated the diplomatic peace talks. And they knew France would give in to their military and political power. How cunning and underhanded._

Albrecht couldn't understand French. But by the hushed tone of their whispers and with their sides and backs all turned on him, their unheard words were already crushing his heart.

 _He's their best. We don't know how much of our countrymen he already killed._

 _We have to trust the king on this. With an alliance with Germany, France will rise higher than before. That's what they said._ _I'll go with what the king says._

 _But what if their intentions are actually to annex France, but not in a military way?_

 _That… is actually a valid reason to fear._

He just focused on the potato slices on his plate to block out the quiet conversations. He lifted his fork and curiously poked at the sliced potato, wondering if it was unfinished.

 _Propeller Knight already put the German as his personal bodyguard. Don't you think he should have put someone French instead?_

 _Huh. Noblesse d'epée and their politics._

 _Tink tink tink tink._

Several pairs of eyes fell on the new Hoverhaft.

 _Tink tink tink tink._

The metal fork in his hand hit the plate repeatedly. Two wedges of the cooked potato had been mashed well in true German fashion, mixing with the green leaves and spices in his dish. Albrecht continued his ministrations until deathly silence reached his ears. No one was talking. Everyone was just staring at him.

Looks of judgment. Judgment narrowed by cultural bias. Judgment twisted the figurative knife of defeat and difference, of the fact that he was from a different place and a former enemy's German Iron Army, and of the reality that everyone else will be foreign and unfamiliar to him... maybe even hate him.

He cleared his throat, picked up his plate, and almost darted out of the dining lobby if it weren't for everyone standing up in _his_ presence.

Propeller Knight, his helmet off for lunchtime, sauntered joyfully into the room with a tray of beef stew. He then started complaining about his men standing up despite him hammering on the house rules that no one has to bow or stand up to him and rambling about how his word was to be followed without any hesitation in _his_ ship. He came across Albrecht, glanced at the plate in his hand, and poked at the latter's wrist.

"Are you going somewhere?" Propeller Knight questioned with a stern look.

All eyes were on his person again. "I... vas about to leave." The German half-growled.

 _"Pourquoi?"_

 _Ask them about what they were doing!_ He almost blurted his offended and hurt feelings at his new boss for life. Albrecht just found some odd interest on the mushy potato on his plate, refusing to make eye contact with _him_.

After a short moment, Propeller Knight switched to his strict side and sternly ordered his men to go back to eating. He set his tray on a spot beside his new underling, and, without a smile, spoke to him.

" _S'il vous pla_ _ît,_ come with me to ze deck for a few words, Albrecht."

And without any more words, he walked away and to the deck, suddenly moving with crisp snap and not with poised gracefulness. Albrecht had no choice but to follow him.

The captain was sitting cross-legged on the polished floor, looking out to the moving scenery below the airship.

"Fold ze zings on your back so we can talk already."

Albrecht wordlessly pushed a button on his belt, and the propellers on his back were disconnected from the delicate gears inside. He pushed the lower blades up, and then sat in a polite distance from his superior.

The Frenchman glanced up to the sky. "I'll guess. You feel uncomfortable with everyone else speaking anozher language."

His voice cracked. "Maybe. But I hear ' _Prusse', 'mal'... ich komme aus Preußen. Ich schon viele-_ "

"It may feel uncomfortable at first, especially since our countries share very bloody history. We just started taking peaceful steps. We could have proposed marriage between our royals, but if my opinion would be taken, I zhink zat's… somezing of ze past now."

"You are-"

"Shush! Let me talk. So zhis is why he have an exchange program. I know our own delegate to your place is feeling ze same way as you do. I see zat you feel afraid and helpless with people who were once your worst enemies, but zat has passed, has it not?"

"Vhat are you saying?"

"Zhis is ze present. German-French alliance is starting to bloom after so many decades of war. I should wish for ze future instead, no? One day, here in our little ship, we'll all be great friends and zhink of ze first rocky days as a stepping stone!" He beamed happily. "So don't be so tense and doubtful, alright?"

Albrecht sighed deeply with a small smile. " _Danke."_

"Also, I'm curious. You crushed your potato. How does it taste like? I've never zhought of crushing potatoes."

"Is 'mash' a better vord?"

"How do mashed potatoes taste?"

"You want to know? Mash your potato!"

Later, the crew started curiously at their captain mashing his potato slice carefully _ **.**_ Propeller Knight then tasted a small amount of mush.

"It tastes good, you know." He mused quite loudly before mashing his entire plate of potato. "I zhink everyone should try it."

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for punishment.**_

He still felt empty inside. With no real heart beating in his chest to give life, he was unsure if he still felt alive anymore.

Looking at his past life's self at the mirror, he felt hollow and sad and pathetic, his throat still constricting at these feelings of self-pity and his hands becoming numb. He cut his hair shorter from shoulder length to just above his jaw, with trembling hands, hands that have been dexterous and precise for most of his previous life and even in the next until _that night_. The golden locks dissolved into thin air each time the blades of the scissors snipped. He looked a little better, with all of his hair framing his face.

How he wished he was still the little boy with crooked teeth and floofy hair with many friends and family. He quietly wished he was not this monster everyone hates. And that's why he frequently disguised himself as human, anyway. And how he enjoyed a little bit of life here and then, even with all the restrictions like never let the sun shine on your face to save energy, do not touch anyone, and many others. Avoiding garlic was also a must, but he can most certainly manage.

And there was something wrong with the image on the mirror.

He fumbled at his face, and it still was quite pale in complexion and still sharp in feature. His nose was definitely not broken. He glided his hands over the rest of his body. His shoulders were still in the right place. His back was straight and proper in posture, like how it was before his spine broke and his neck strangled and snapped in that _fateful_ attack. His coat was smooth and free of wrinkles, and his hat was still as elegant as ever.

Wait. He narrowed his eyes at the peculiar little thing pinned to his hat's white ribbon.

What the _hell_ was on his hat?

"Master? The flower on your hat looks lovely. It fits you!" His maidservant commented cheerfully. "Does it represent the yellow fire on your hands? Oh, and it looks like a yellow carnation… I love carnations!"

He stared at the flower with wide eyes, feeling his person and self-confidence sink deeper and deeper, the ache in his chest growing and worsening. The flower on his hat was not placed by him. That was not a part of him… and the fact that the flower looked gray than yellow-

He gasped at the reflection. He was black and white and gray, there was utterly no color on him. He looked around. The mirror frame was dark gray; the floor, instead of decayed brown, was gray; the curtains, instead of bright green, were light gray.

The world had lost its color.

He gazed back in the mirror. The 'yellow' carnation was not placed there by him.

 _It's me._

He heard the evil voice again, and it echoed in his mind loudly and painfully. The edges of his field of sight blackened, the shadows in his vision progressing to the middle and blinding him completely. He felt his left shoulder hit something hard. His hands became cold and numb, and for the first time in his undeath, he shivered in both pain and cold. He could faintly hear panicked calls to him, but it was too soft and too weak to overcome the cruel laughing.

 _I told you to stop._

 _Sadly, you disappoint me once again._

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for panic.**_

The old teacher cracked his eyes open. He grimaced when his brain felt like being bombarded with powerful explosions. He rubbed his temples to alleviate the agonizing pain, and sat up from his sleeping quilt. What was going on? It's their second day of hiking through the mountain woods to go east for the Lost City, and he already got a painful migraine? Such a bad day. Will the can of spicy fish in his bag-

Why are the pupils not in the tent?

Where's his bag?

In a short moment of panic, he darted out of his bed (and groaned when his head protested the sudden quick motion), and strode out.

There they were, around a bonfire many steps away from the tent. Their faces were grimy, tired, and afraid, and they held colored rocks in their hands to create colored smoke. They gasped when they saw their teacher emerge out of their tent. The professor approached them carefully with wide eyes.

"Children, what happened to you overnight?"

The five students just looked at each other.

"Did you go out without my permission?"

"N-no, sir," one of them piped up, "we've already been lost for a long time."

"What? Today is just our second day. Where are our supplies? Gods, why are we using rocks as tent pegs? And what-"

There was a clap of thunder that seemed too close and too loud. The moon disappeared with thick _discolored_ clouds quickly coming in. When light came back, it wasn't moonlight, but it was purple fire in a circle around the six. The five screamed and filed behind their professor when they saw the dreadful lady in blank and violet and green hovering near them.

She turned to the professor with a malicious smile and summoned a sphere of magic in her palm.

The old man kept his feet firmly planted in the ground. "Enchantress."

The witch laughed.

"Sir, isn't she… the master of the Order of No Quarter?"

"And isn't Mole Knight in the Order…?"

The Enchantress chuckled at the students and hovered down to them. "Yes, yes, I am. Precious, innocent, young mortals. I am just here to visit your teacher and tell him he has done a wonderful job."

"I have never served you." The old man confidently asserted.

The evil sorceress cocked her head at him abruptly and unnaturally, her eyes glowing unholy white. "Remember how you went from the mountain ranges to the east of the Lich Yard?"

The old man's memories flooded back, her magic showing the past weeks in his own point of view, how he tossed everyone's bags down a cliff, fed their food to wild animals, directed them to the fork north of Pridemoor…

"Don't hurt my students." He hissed.

"Oh. I was expecting fright and panic, esteemed anthropologist. However, all did not go as anticipated. There is only one thing left."

The sphere floating over her palm augmented and burned brilliant purple before sending a beam of concentrated magic to the old man himself.

One of the students, a small male, screamed at everyone to get out of the way and attempted to pull his professor away from the beam.

But the heat was too much.

He was thrown out of the way with a badly burned arm.

There was nothing on the spot where the old man was but a tiny pile of smouldering ash.

There were loud screams and cries for help.

"Go to sleep." She commanded, and then there was a flash if bright green light.

Silence and darkness.

And then, fire raging everywhere.

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for passion.**_

Mole Knight could never stop talking about his love for the discipline of anthropology. He could gush forever about his passion for the art – how exciting it is to uncover fossils of strange creatures and have them named after you if you discovered it first, how fascinating it is to see how ancient peoples irrigated their farms with their own technology, how lovely it is to interpret the stories of dead and living societies through their cultures, how challenging it is to practice cultural relativism and prevent his biases from affecting what he wrote in his ethnographies, how exhilarating it is to observe peoples from all lands for the academia, and how the study on its own can supplement all other fields of sciences and arts. Anthropology was a holistic social science that can cater to all.

His knowledge knew no boundaries.

He knew why exactly alchemy was despised and controlled with so much scrutiny by reading the literature of courts and playwrights which all depicted alchemists frauds and mischief-bringers. His most recent ethnography of Plague Knight and his minions disproved that a little bit, however. Most of the pink birds just wanted a living and they liked the nice side of alchemy almost universally. Plague Knight himself was honestly just a tiny messy nutjob hopelessly in love with the Mona girl, too, but "malicious alchemist" kind of fits his general profile.

He knew why sorcery was banned almost everywhere he could see, as murals of ancient walls told of dark magicks that allowed humans to be drunk with evil power and desire destruction of all normality.

He knew why necromancy was a despised "dark" art. Veneration of the dead tended to contain well-wishes from loved ones, and raising the dead negated that veneration, according to universal traditions. He had a personal gripe with walking corpses too… who wants to see the rotten and decayed body of their loved ones suddenly live again, dig themselves out of their coffins (if they could even do that with a structurally unstable body), emerge from the dirt, and hug their living family and friends with a stupid, dead smile? For the love of the yacht gods, that just sounds yucky! Every time he would look at Specter Knight, he shivers a little at the thought of dead people hugging _him_ and not out of fear of the dreaded knight with an _obvious_ personality issue.

He knew the history of the horse men and the bird people and the hedgehog guys. And he knew very well just where they came from, and it was not from horses or birds shagging humans and or or vice versa. Despite an age-old barber's story saying they did come from unions between pure humans and pure horses or pure birds or whatever animal, they actually descend from a long line of weird evolution and magic (there were written manuscripts in the Lost City itself of a powerful evil _sorceress_ forcing the top half of humans on the bodies of whatever animals).

Long story short, everything had its own story to tell, and it was his passion to interpret it.

 _Exampli gratia_.

The Liquid Samurai were interesting him very much. Their language had a very different linguistic structure to that of English, and was admittedly hard to learn, but it was exciting nonetheless. He had a lovely time trying to memorize their numbers (they had two words for the number four, and one of them might also mean "death"!). They managed. The liquid people could understand his English but could never speak it, and there he was attempting to understand them. Mostly it was a very elaborate game of charades. It was hard to do ethnography of the Liquid Samurai without knowing the language, a large chunk of any culture. They were cooperative and cute little water people, and sometimes he forgot that they were deadly warriors. The red variety is extremely precise and swift in their slashes, and all of them seem to share a no-nonsense, austere personality. The green ones are lethally accurate and mobile, and exhibit astute skills in observation, which may have been amplified by their natural occupation of shooting from far away. The blue liquid people were few in number compared to the other two, possessed all of the skills of all the other Liquid Samurai races. Oddly, they also had none of the others' common personalities. They preferred to be in their compact blob forms for sleep. They were often a target of the wrath of the red samurai, too.

Also, interestingly, they appeared to have a hive memory of some sort. He had showed a painted pot at a blue liquid man (who was not interested at all in the pot). Days passed, he brought the pot again as a green blob was passing by. The blob reformed into humanoid form and inspected the pot, babbling thoughtfully and even said it remembered the pot (after intense charades).

That was the extent of his ongoing ethnography of the Liquid Samurai, however.

Maybe he could introduce the brilliant and cute little students that were on their way to the Lost City and have them conduct a practice ethnography too-

His heart was crushed again.

He was in the forests just south of the plains. His trackers had found evidence of a small wandering group that somehow had broken compasses and tent pegs. Mole Knight was one-hundred percent confident in the possibility that it was their tracks, and with the amount of tent pegs they retrieved from the forest (and the occasional squirrel) it seemed that they were running out of time.

He was sure they were smart kids. They would be shrewd enough to pack all their tent pegs, so what was up?

The trackers also noted that they saw odd smoke coming out of the forest sometimes. Once in a while, the smoke would puff black and white. Smoke signal code seemed to be involved, too.

Speaking of smoke, there was a pretty big wildfire nearby-

"Mole Knight!" One of his trackers pointed to a large mound forming on the earth. A mole's exit.

Out of the big hole emerged a panicked Mole Minion. "Sir! The students! I found them! I can't bring them here! I need help, fast!"

Mole Knight's heart pounded. "Where?!"

The minion's giant finger pointed to the direction of the fire.

The knight-anthropologist wasted no time and dove into the dirt, burrowing as fast as he could.

Fire meant soot and ash and smoke and heat.

 _No no no no no no_

Charred flesh and bones...

 _Faster faster faster gods dammit_

He tried pushing the image of the students choking and fainting out of his mind, but alas… he could not.

He crossed paths with the same Mole Minion.

"We're close! Ten others are also with us!"

He hissed and burrowed upwards when the minion did.

When he emerged back on the surface, all was hellfire.

He could see the tent cloths burn.

Four small bodies together in one place.

He felt something softly tap at his left foot. He looked down, and gasped when he saw one of his dear students, face down and wheezing heavily. He immediately picked him up, careful as not to touch the large blistering burn on his right arm.

"Child, are you awake?"

The poor student opened his eyes. His sight was blurry and painful and stinging.

"How many are you students and teacher?" His words came out faster than usual.

His head just lolled back, his world fading away.

"Get them all out of here!" Mole Knight barked.

He dug himself back into the earth, cradling the young boy as he dug through the earth.

Next thing he knew, he was already out of the dirt, with the other minions emerging with salvaged possessions and small bodies. He was shouting frantically for medics and magic healers.

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for prank.**_

There would be some times when there would be bright smiles even when their stomachs ached to the point of painful growling when they had no food for days.

 _There was a carriage pulled by four horses that stopped by the establishment. Both boy and dog hid before a tall stack of crates, stupid smiles on his face as he pulled a bone out of his pocket. He laughed as quietly as he could while looking at the nobleman with ridiculously white garb. His shirt was white, his jabot was thankfully gray, his links were gold, his shoulder pads were black and gold, his pants were white, his boots were black, but he had white spats. It almost seemed like the poor man had nothing else to wear but white for the day, and just what was the best and funniest things to do when someone wore pure and angelic white?_

 _Throw something dirty on him._

 _The man held the palm of a lady in guess what? White! Although her dress was more beige and brown instead of pure white, and she had her long hair in braided tresses at the back of her head. Her hat was wide and had a small yet useless veil. She had tons of makeup on, and it seemed to the boy that she was most probably squandering her riches on lipstick, powder, and blush._

 _The little boy giggled as he collected some soil in an abandoned cup, and scooped a little bit of water in a deep puddle. He shushed his puppy dog when it almost barked._

" _Shh. Anthony, we're gonna throw this at the man and the woman. Ready?"_

 _Anthony just gnawed happily on the bone._

" _Okay."_

 _The boy went around, approached the two elite, whistling and hiding the cup of mud from their sight. He saw the two scrunch up their noses at the sight of an extremely poor scoundrel kid wandering near them. When they directed their attention away, the boy tried hard not to giggle at himself and then swiftly flung the cup of mud to the back of the man dressed in angelic white._

" _Putain de merde!"_

 _The boy cackled and ran away happily, snapping his finger when he bolted by his puppy dog, and ran away merrily from the confused company of the man he just threw mud on._

There would be times he wished he could do that again.

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for plant.**_

"What a cute flower!"

Mitzi dashed to the violet bloom, its stem right beside the giant hinge of the gates of the Lich Yard. It had partially yellow leaves, but the blooming flower was open and smelled quite strongly even with the stench of decay all around the place. The plant was alive and not shriveled, and the mere fact that its seed somehow drifted to the Village of Death, grew, and produced a beautiful flower was a cute and somehow defiant concept.

"So adorable!" The ghost maiden crouched and patted the leaves and the flower. "How did you grow up here? I bet this means something!"

The flower said nothing, for it is a flower.

"It means this graveyard can have something pretty aside from Master's embroidery!"

"How did you know about my needlework?" A cold and low voice snapped from behind her.

Mitzi promptly turned and shyly grinned before him. "Master! I'm glad you're awake now! I was scared, when you were having a nice haircut you went to sleep!"

"I am aware of that… also, that is an iris flower."

"What does it mean?"

"The flower?" He groaned. The meaning of the flower was unrelated to anything about him, _dammit! Why do I have to talk about-_

"No! How did it grow here?"

His mouth was slightly open, unable to respond with a smart reply. Plants needed healthy loamy soil and water and sunlight to grow. The Lich Yard had unhealthy soil as far as he knew, enchanted water, and no sunlight at all.

"Such a valid question, servant." _After all the insane rambling and crying,_ he didn't add.

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for place.**_

As Treasure Knight stood before the Lich Yard's gates with a bag full of money (and the shiny ones, too), he started wondering if puppies had preferences where they want to get buried.

Will Anthony like it if he had him properly buried somewhere secure but grim and horrible and basically inaccessible? Or would he like it better if he was buried somewhere surrounded by lovely wild flowers but anyone could stumble upon on?

What a hard guess. People liked to dictate where their body would lie rotting forever. The ones he had killed for bounty had probably been found and buried properly somehow, maybe including the mysterious man he never thought he would be able to kill because _gods damn_ he was quite the slippery and shadowy fish.

But what about dogs? They have no way to communicate to their masters where they want to be buried for eternity. And Anthony was too good, just too good and ethereal for this fucking world. Such a small puppy dog not even half a year old.

Maybe communicating with ghosts was easier than trying to ascertain whether a _puppy dog_ would prefer a flowery meadow or a secure village. He had access to that bastard of a phantom, who just happens to remind him of someone he went after in a bounty hunt.

He did manage to catch him and eventually eliminate him.

 _There was probably no connection between this high-bounty target and Specter Knight_ , he told himself. That man was a looker and a hider and Specter Knight was just a proud cur with some affinity for flair and presentation, but both are frighteningly effective.

Enough of that.

There he was, his back turned to him, idling around with his scythe in his hand.

Maybe he could ask Specter Knight if he, _totally_ the lord of death, can commune with dead dogs. He just didn't know how much the spirit beside him was looking up at him, barking as loudly as it could to catch his attention, and attempting to gnaw at his metal boot. He marched up to the gate and saw a pale ghost in a dress with no feet beneath the reaper. She was grinning brightly and holding up to him a pot of… an iris plant?

Specter Knight cocked his head around menacingly and spoke. "I can feel a heart beating in my domain of death."

"It's me." _You are an ass_ , Treasure Knight didn't add.

"Oh?" He turned around, ignored the protests of the inferior ghost below him, phased through the gate, and floated to the bounty hunter. The reaper somehow recalled something about his own death when he stared right into Treasure Knight's soul, something about the _size and sheer brute force_ of his assailant. Wait. "You have a bag of money with you. Pray tell, what is your purpose here?"

"I need someone buried."

"Someone you _killed_?" He hissed.

"Not exactly. It's a dog."

"What dog?"

"I don't think you have any right to know. You can guess if you want."

"How long has the dog been dead?" Specter Knight mused, watching the small flop-eared puppy run around and bark noisily.

There was a long pause as Treasure Knight looked up thoughtfully. "It's been a long time. I can't exactly remember. Give or take twenty years. Just tell me where I can safely put the pup to rest, and I'll pay you."

"How nice." He laughed. "You must treat this dog as a precious loved one, and you are even willing to give up money to me."

 _Bastard. He's getting the leverage he wants on me._ "I think I'll be looking somewhere else, then." Treasure Knight snapped, and turned around.

"Alright. If you wish, I shall respect it. But do keep in mind that _my services are always here."_

Treasure Knight said no word and just trudged away.

The phantom menace hovered back to the safety of his land, bitterly remarking to himself. _Why should I bury your dog if I was never truly laid to rest?_

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for propeller.**_

" _It's so heavy!" The young fencer complained when his new helmet was placed on his head. The weighty blades and controller handles were straining his neck, and he cursed at whoever the engineer was for not thinking about placing supporting pillars. If he wore this for too long it might crush the delicate bones of his neck. That would be very, very bad news._

 _One of his servants pulled the helmet up so that his blood would still flow properly to his head. A second one worked to hook the ends of the straps on his body to the helmet. The young noble grimaced at the awful itch due to the new and coarse cloth of the straps on his skin. He began scratching them as gentlemanly as he could._

 _But it felt so uncomfortable having the helmet. He wanted to become_ the Propeller Knight _, a knight separate from all other knights, but this heavy helm was already diminishing his desire to be who he wanted to be. After all, the Flying Machine was his to command, and everyone in the crew can fly, so why not the captain as well?_

 _Either he became Propeller Knight, a manifestation of his deepest wishes for freedom, or he just remained a hopeless heir that lived life being really good in martial fencing and trapped in an estate. He would rather be free. Free as the wind, without any much care. He would become comforting and refreshing like a breeze. Wasn't it air that helped produce the lovely voices of singers? Wasn't it air was that let mankind hear the lulling chirps of songbirds and the sweet melodies of music? Wasn't it air that gave immediate life? Air and wind, the most lovely thing in the world, for without it, nothing is beautiful._

 _He wasn't sure on stormy winds, however. He could be a vicious storm too, if he was provoked… after all, he was a really good fencer. Or he could order his crew to blow his enemies away. That can work!_

 _Air is the element of will and liberty._ Propeller Knight _is who I am and is free. I was never bound to the earth and to the expectations of others, for I will become like wind. I was never this unhappy, ensnared, and tragic man forced to live to other people's standards._

 _So he started scratching at the itchy parts without any care. Propeller Knight would say 'to hell with discreet scratching'!_

" _Monsieur, it would be easier to hook the helmet if you would just stop moving-"_

" _Maman!" He completely ignored his servant's annoyed huff and waved to the old lady in an elegant lacey dress. Her hair, brown but with locks of silver appearing, was braided and decorated with golden leaves. She turned her head and immediately smiled at her constantly cheerful son. She gracefully strode to him, the train of servants following her closely, and stood before her son._

" _You're starting to pursue the elegance of knighthood, my dear. And see how it suits you!"_

" _It is very heavy and itchy, but I think it would be the best for me."_

" _Of course it would be. All will not be easy when you work for it." The old lady chuckled softly. "Do you know how unruly you were as an infant? You flung your swaddles around, and one morning it landed on one of the guards who just happened to be investigating the suspicious patch of bare soil just under the balcony!"_

 _The two servants lightly giggled while the young man blushed in embarrassment. Thankfully the helmet covered his flushed face._

" _Do you know on whom your poop-filled swaddled landed? He's the captain of our guard now!"_

 _He turned deep red. "Oh no. I have to apologize!"_

" _Twenty years late!" The mother laughed. "It was hard, you know, with you somehow getting your hands on your swaddles and throwing it everywhere. But I love you very much, and look how you have grown up!"_

 _His heartstrings tugged. "Maman. I love you too."_

" _Now put that on, try if it works, and if it doesn't, we can always have engineers to sort out this problem!"_

" _The helmet has been hooked." The servant shyly piped up._

" _Thank you very much, let's see if it works, oh and you can put it down now, no need to hold it." He grimaced when the weight of the helmet was gently set on his poor head. He reached for the handles, felt around for the triggers for the propeller blades to turn and lift him up._

 _Pull the trigger to make the propellers turn faster, pull the left and right one down to go left or right, pull any handle backwards to go backwards, pull handle forwards to go forwards, push up to reverse the spin and blow air like a fan._

 _He pressed and pulled too early. The servant still had something to say._

" _Seigneur, the helmet is still in its highest setting so please turn the dial down before-"_

" _AHH!" The young gentleman zoomed upwards too fast. Everyone scrambled for safety when the young man flew up to the crystal chandelier hanging up. He missed it by mere luck and went straight to the open window._

" _Aidez-moi!" He shrieked when, in sheer panic, he saw his trajectory going out of the mansion. He did not want to be out in the open, where anyone can watch him flail around helplessly in midair and see him land on top of a tree or somewhere he could not simply go down back to the ground._

 _Having the solid earth under his feet felt like an underappreciated privilege._

 _He pushed both handles up to descend as fast as he could, but realized he might break his legs when he hit the ground, so then frantically pulled at the strings commanding the speed of the spinning blades. The guards in the house also went crazy, the captain of the guard barking as loudly as he could to do all they can to cushion the fall of the screaming flying man._

 _Meanwhile, in a nearby gazebo, the young man's aging father was discussing with some peers about politics._

" _The Prussian Division of the German Iron Army is, as we all know, the most powerful. The German Kingdom's best and most loyal knights come from the Prussian State and they have never suffered a defeat in any skirmish as far as we know. We can annihilate the Bavarian Order as much times as France wants but the Prussian Army may obliterate France permanently." One of them sternly mentioned. The decorations on his coat and family brooch told of his rank as royal treasurer. "I fear that if Prussia rises to become the head in political power in the young Kingdom of Germany, France will rapidly lose the war. Prussia has already sent letters to our king by cartier pigeon about negotiations for peace. And both our countries are being attacked by La Terruer."_

" _I feel like we should push for negotiating with the Germans as soon as possible. Our territories have been dwindling for the past few years due to their frightening military might." The estate's master of the house looked to the direction of the mansion, sighing. "The lands under my control have been captured and recaptured for so many times in three years already, gentlemen. I feel that my son would be incapable of maintaining my family's power."_

" _He is too liberal." The first man crossed his arms. "Where did you go wrong, so wrong that your heir has repeatedly proved to be politically intelligent but emotionally reliant and radical in ideology?"_

" _I know. I should correct this behavior, but I love him dearly and will guide him to the right path. Speaking of which, gentlemen, my son has been interested recently in tourism and knighthood, so perhaps he is not as radical as you think he is-"_

 _They were disturbed with high-pitched and not-so-distant desperate screams of help._

 _The treasurer spun around. "What on earth is that-"_

 _Suddenly a man zipped by the open gazebo wearing a ridiculous helmet. He managed to wave politely to the man who was his father._

" _Bonne journée, papa! Papa's peers, salut!" He half-laughed, half-shrieked. "Adieu, papa! Aaaaah!"_

 _He managed to fly onto open grass and land his feet on the ground. He ran around noisily as he decreased the dragging power of the propellers, until it stopped turning on its own. Adrenaline started to lose its effects, and so the young man sat on the ground, unhooked his helmet, pulled it off, put it on the grass beside him, and lied down on the soft grass._

 _Being free as wind was terrifying…_

 _And also really, really fun._

 _When he opened his eyes, his mother and father were staring down at him in a mix of concern and relief._

" _Are you alright, my dear?" His mother called out._

" _Mmm."_

" _Are you hurt, my son?"_

" _Nnn."_

" _You want to sleep there?" His father joked crudely, and chuckled at his bad sense of humor._

" _I want to do that again. But with no shouting." The young man closed his eyes. "For now… sleep."_

" _Before you become one with the grass, son, what do you think about an exchange service when the kings of France and the German Kingdom?"_

 _He opened one eye. "That works." He sighed, and basked in the sun's warmth._

 _His maman and papa happily sat beside him._

Sometimes he would stay awake in his bed, disturbed not by the ever-present noise of the propeller blades keeping his ship high above the land, but by the scarring memories of his life. For others to see Propeller Knight, always bursting with life and laughter, weep pathetically every night was something that would tarnish his reputation. It would be crushing if anyone, even his close friend Albrecht, watched Propeller Knight express negative emotion like sadness. It would be against the point of _being_ Propeller Knight.

The letters from his mother had arrived to him. It is as if his past self, tethered to the scrutiny of others, started to resurface. He loved his maman and papa, he held them close to his heart, but he had abandoned them out of spite and, perhaps, out of arrogance. He had done something very, very wrong. Rejecting this responsibility, going around the lands aimlessly, somehow arriving into this barren area with an ominous tower, and entering into a mess of a contract with an evil sorceress just to save his new family, the Flying Machine's crew, from death was very, very wrong.

General Bonnefoy's simple and clear order for him to return to France was frightening enough.

But it was time to mend the tear between him and his family as soon as possible, leave his crew and ship to someone else who will handle it better, and face death if ever the king decides to cut off his head. It should make up for his past irresponsibility… right?

 _Propeller Knight is free. Like wind, like the birds in the sky, never to be frowned upon by anyone._

 _I never was Propeller Knight. I'm just a hopeless, arrogant fool._

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for plaything.**_

"Where did you two get that toy?!"

The two children jumped at the loud angry voice of their mother, who glared at them with furrowed brows and hands on her hips. Her sight was focused on the toy in his toddler daughter's hands, and then snatched the toy from the little girl's hands and then put it high above her head.

"I said, _where did you get this toy?!"_

"Hey! What's happening there?" A neighbor shouted from the window. "You shouldn't-"

The concerned neighbor saw the tiny music box still playing and spinning in the mother's hand.

"It's Tinker Knight's machine!"

"A man with gold armor and a crown on his head ripped her doll and she was crying a lot!" The boy cried. "I saw a tiny man with a big wrench, and actually atfirstIwasscaredofhimbuthegavemeaboxforherandwhenIbroughtittoheritbecameatinymusicboxandshewashappybutyoutookitfromher!"

The rapid outburst of the older child made the two adults pause.

 _ **.**_

 _ **P is for plague.**_

"Siegfried, why don't we have a meeting _outside_ of my house?" Three groaned and resisted the temptation to rip his beard off when Siegfried just laughed his annoying laugh.

"Roman. Your house is the loveliest. Moreso than mine." One jeered. "Your house is the most secure! I guess Gil can lend his house, but it's too far from our base of operations."

"Maybe because I'm the head of Finance and there are hundreds of knights prowling around my home to protect the properties and gold?"

"That's the point, Roman! Besides, my house isn't exactly available all the time. You know how my sister is irritable when someone visits."

"You know, when you start mentioning your sister, I'm ninety-nine percent sure you're going to start being a doting big brother and embarrass her again." Roman prepared to filter out the gushing praises from the older brother.

And Siegfried just proceeded to do that. "Hey, have you heard the time when Irma was still this tall," he then put his flat hand just at the height of his knee, "she had this best boy friend and I was already planning the-"

"Fatheeeeerrr!" A third voice called out, and then a tiny girl with an orange dress stained with spots of glowing red liquid crashed into Three's legs. Roman grabbed Siegfried's cape to prevent himself from falling onto the ground in public because of a little girl's force.

"Apologies, One. My daughter's quite strong."

Siegfried waved his wrist. "Oh, don't worry about it."

"Father! I came from the Magicist's shop! She taught me how to make a health potion!"

Roman chuckled and patted his daughter's light hair. "How nice, Ophelia. But you scare me. You went out of the house on your own?"

"No, I was with Irma! She went home when she saw you, so I ran to you!" She dug into her skirt pocket and fished out a vial of glowing red liquid. "Here! This amount can cure headaches, she said!"

Roman hesitantly took the vial, and when he saw One nod to him, he popped off the cork and downed the red water. Immediately, he stuck his tongue out, and coughed.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, the Magicist had no sweetener. She said a big bird took it and flew away!"

"She should have kept _some_ sweetener, but this is fine, I think."

"Father, I want to be an alchemist when I grow up!"

One's omnipresent grin disappeared completely. Three was sure he wanted to rewind time to stop his daughter from saying what she just said. He breathed deeply, and decided to handle it like a good father would.

"One, would you care to come with us to the Martyr's Wall?" Three spoke, holding his daughter's small hand.

"Of course. You need the help."

"Come, dear." The father smiled softly and pulled her gently along. "I'll show you something before you decide to be an alchemist."

"Where are we going, Father?"

"I'll show you the Martyr's Wall."

"That's in the graveyard, right?" She thoughtfully said. "The one with a lot of little names on the wall?"

"Yes, dear. Do you still remember why the Martyr's Wall was built? Remember your school."

Ophelia tilted her head. "Weren't all names on the Wall the names of people who died?"

Three nodded. "Yes. What did they die of?"

"I don't know, teacher never said anything."

Siegfried interrupted. "They don't teach that to kids not older than fifteen, Roman."

"Hmm, I forgot that, One. Thank you. So, Ophelia, I'll tell you what killed the people."

"What is it?"

Roman pursed his lips. Siegfried patted his shoulder and sighed deeply.

"We call it the Alchemical Pestilence." One answered. "That started eight years ago, and it still hasn't ended. Your mother... died from it."

 _ **Up next: Q is for quintessential.**_

 _Translations:_

 _Si amusant - how funny!_

 _bist du wütend - Are you angry?_

 _Prusse, mal - Prussia, evil/bad_

 _Ich komme aus Preußen. Ich schon viele - I come from Prussia. I already [guess what action, it's heavily implied anyway] many..._

 _ **Final note:**_ _Shameless self-promo here, but I also made a_ _ **Specter Knight desktop buddy!**_ _Basically it's Specter Knight running and climbing around your desktop! It's on my tumblr, LKCSI in all lowercase. Please check it out, I'm very proud of this. I hope you like that as much as you like this fanfic!_

 _Please notice chibi Specter Knight desktop buddy. I worked nonstop on it. T_T_


	17. Q is for questionable

_**SOUND THE ALARM. SPECTER OF TORMENT HAS BEEN ANNOUNCED FOR SPRING 2017! I am so stoked! It's also a bigger expansion than Plague of Shadows and I am exploding with hype as I type this. I also had an emergency announcement regarding it on my Tumblr, as well as a change on the decision on Specter snippets.**_

 _To Monkey999Boy: I was hoping you noticed the flowers haha. But don't worry! I understand, haha._

 _To Saturdaylemon: Or maybe the yacht gods send him over just to tell a bad pun and then pull him back when things are getting dangerous. xD And holy ship, you have a VERY LOVELY PUN THERE I LOVE IT HERE HAVE MY DIGITAL CAKE. "CHIVALRAVE"._

 _The first part of this is a homage to 'Short', a fanfic I adore very much! If you haven't read it, go there, it has a cute plot! Very cute! Like a ChibiSpecter Knight! :3_

 _Chapter length would vary from now on. It was 9000 words at minimum and I thought it would be too tiring for both me and you guys if I wrote half the alphabet with a minimum of 9000 words each. What are your thoughts? RSVP yo._

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for quick.**_

"No, Plaguey," Mona asserted, and held up the vial of blue sparkly liquid high up where the little bird alchemist couldn't reach, "we are going to test this potion first before we try it on you."

"But it won't hurt me!" Plague Knight complained. "The magic in that is enough for only one person, hee."

"Tut! Have you forgotten the _scientific method?!"_ She retorted with an intense glare. "You _test_ the hypothesis before going to the conclusion!"

Plague Knight gave up and hung his head. "Okay. You're right. Hehe."

"We can just throw it at some unsuspecting guy, so.. "

And so the two had a quick test and threw the splash potion at Shovel Knight when they saw him.

/*later, emergency Order of No Quarter meeting*/

The Order sat quietly in the dinner table, for once without any degree of violence. There were no sharp sardonic quips. There were no curses and insults uttered. There were no authoritative and stern calls for order from Polar Knight. Just uncomfortable and uncharacteristic silence. Maybe because there was an absence of a certain easily-ticked apparition, and thank gods he wasn't there to be creepy. Maybe because the bomb-happy bird was not squawking because he wasn't there. Maybe because King Knight was pacing back and forth nervously, looking as though someone stepped on him a lot of times that caused the dented and less than shiny armor and dirty cape. Maybe because Propeller Knight was not there to pester everyone with his accent. Three out of eight were absent, one was mentally absent, and the remaining four was quietly wondering what the hell had happened.

"What happened?" Polar Knight broke the ice and properly started the meeting.

King Knight erupted into a panicked mess. "Idon'tknowwhatexactlyhappenedIwassittingonmythroneanticipatinganattackandthenthisLARGEthingtoreoffthewall-"

Suddenly, the doors to the hall opened, well, more like kicked open. Floating by the doorway was the phantom bastard himself, looking unusual with the entire front and lower half of the back of his cloak ripped off. His armor sustained large dents, and his head was tilted unnaturally to the right, as if it was snapped. His back was twisted. Both of his hands were curled into glowing fists. He held a little bird alchemist aloft by the hood in his claws. Plague Knight wriggled and complained loudly, flapping his arms up and down and trying to claw at his mortal enemy in the death playground.

"It was just a test! NOW PUT ME DOWN, SPOOKY GHOST!"

" _I WILL NOT PUT YOU DOWN UNTIL YOU HAVE CONFESSED TO YOUR CRIME AGAINST_ ME _AND THE ORDER!"_

Polar Knight banged his fist on the table, startling everyone else. The angry knights by the doorway started _hissing_ in contained anger and faced the Norse warrior.

"What happened?" The Stalwart harrumphed. "Do not leave anything out. And most importantly, show some respect and stop hissing at each other. You two are like children."

/*earlier, in the forest west of Pridemoor Keep*/

"I bring a letter from the Magicist of the Village Inbetween, Sir Anart of the Woods."

Sir Anart of the Woods, or simply Anart, but that is not his name, almost went into a rant about how he wasn't a bushman or a tree man or a jungle man! He was a _gentleman_ trapped in the woods! A powerful gentleman! But the mere mention of the Magicist calmed him down.

"My cousin?" The young man raised a brow at the mail minion with a bird mask before him and brushed his bangs off of his face. His hair was unkempt and looked like he cut it himself. Sapphire blue eyes scanned the mail minion from beak to feet and hesitantly opened his heavy door for the messenger.

Upon seeing what was inside the little house, the mail minion squawked loudly about the state of Anart's little hiding hole. A cauldron, an empty hole, various cloaks, porcelain teacups on a table, and some pretty jewelry and embroidery in a display shelf. Dirty clothes were strewn all around. Crumpled papers were everywhere. The floor looked dusty and unclean. And in a dark corner was a thin black stick with a five-point golden star was placed.

"Oh man, boss will be angry at you. You should clean your house. And you're an actual _sorcerer?!_ I thought you were another Magicist or Alchemist only that your station is in the forest-"

"Yes, I am the most powerful sorcerer in my family history, at least. I do some alchemy too, though." Anart scowled. "I get it all the time. Why don't I get recognized for my embroidery, tailoring skills, and weaving?"

"I don't know, maybe no one has seen your stuff."

"No one does!" He cried. "But ahem. My message?"

"Oh, right." The minion dug into his messenger's bag and pulled out his letter. "Yes."

Anart tore the seal off the paper swiftly and unfolded it.

 _Dear cousin,_

 _I'm sorry that I haven't visited often, but my boss has been quite strict. I know you feel like going insane there, but I promise you will still be sane once Plague Knight overthrows the Enchantress and frees you from your forest prison as a result!_

 _There will also be some people going there. They are the Knights of the Supreme and Venerable Society of Pridemoor's Children. They want to work with you. They're rebels against the Order of No Quarter, but mostly King Knight. Good for you, you can get out of there faster._

 _Also, I have a young girl with me who's interested in your work. She's more into alchemy, however._

 _Congratulations. More people are coming to your place._

"This is going to kill her one day." Anart muttered to himself.

"I think I should be going. Oh, and you're an awesome sorcerer."

"Yes, but can I have a favor?" He waved his palm in front of his face and closed his eyes. "I have something to ask you to do."

"Sure, sure."

He opened his eyes, now glowing bright green, and immediately magically grabbed the minion's gaze and fixed it on his eyes. He grinned widely. "Forget my location, my house, and my occupation."

The mail minion froze in his place after the order was uttered.

"Now-"

 _Thud._

Anart frowned, annoyed at the sound interrupting his Short-Term Memory Eraser Spell, and looked to the east, where the royal castle castle stood.

 _Oh my gods what is that?!_

 _Thud._

Anart gasped when the thing's _thing_ collided with a tower of the keep, the brick and stone slapped away like a child playing with cube blocks.

He knitted his brows together and cast his soul to the sky as far as he was allowed to go.

Bird's eye view is so cool.

The giant horned titan thrust its limb through the wall of the keep and felt around for something.

Anart laughed devilishly and _ungentlemanly_ , his arms up at his sides at the sheer joy and stupidity and genius of the sight before ( _below_ ) him, and then faced the minion again. "Holy ship, that is lovely. If that is my cousin's team's work, tell her it was awesome to look at. Ask her why making Plague Knight into that wasn't part of the research when you can, like, stomp the Enchantress and squash her into a meaningless splotch of blood as soon as possible so they can get me out of here..."

/*back to the Tower of Fate, emergency Order meeting*/

Specter Knight zoomed to the table and thrust the furious alchemist up. "He was the cause of Pridemoor Keep collapsing and the desecration of my domain and person!"

"It was just a test! Ask Mona!"

"Mona has nothing to do with all of this!"

"Did he bomb Pridemoor Keep?" Mole Knight piped up.

"No." Specter Knight replied softly, and then raised his voice again. "He caused Shovel Knight to-"

 _Pobpobpobpob._

All knights turned to the window. There was the flying Frenchman, pounding on the glass. He was surrounded by dozens of Hoverhafts droning around him. He looked quite distressed.

"Propeller Knight?" Polar Knight raised a brow.

Propeller Knight started gesturing wildly with his arms and legs. He then curled into a ball and abruptly kicked out and opened his arms wide. He also put the base of his index fingers against his temples, resembling horns. The Frenchman was shouting something at them, but the glass muffled everything he said.

"You started to use a bicycle and you are enjoying it?" King Knight yelled. "Or did you fall off and used a deer to come back?"

Propeller Knight faced the other fancy knight and mouthed a word that could only be 'quoi?'. A Hoverhaft tapped his shoulder, pushed him back, handed him his halberd, and then hovered backwards. The knights inside couldn't help but notice their co-member scream (silently, however) and stiffen in fear as the Hoverhaft flew _to the glass window_.

Treasure Knight pulled his teammates down. "TRRRK CRRVRRR."

The Hoverhaft did a front flip thrice and extended his legs as he crashed into the glass. The green glass shattered majestically, followed by the Hoverhaft landing gracefully on the table, his arms outwards to stabilize himself. He wheezed and coughed for a little before hollering very angry abuse at _the Order of No Quarter._

"All of you! _Dummköpfe!"_ Albrecht hacked for a moment.

"Now, Albrecht, it is not nice to insult people who are basically higher in rank than you are." Propeller Knight flew in gracefully and landed on the cold floor. "We have to evacuate immediately!"

"And why do we need to-"

Suddenly, a gigantic blue fist punched through the wall. Everyone except Polar Knight ducked (Propeller Knight was immediately tackled to the ground and Plague Knight was dropped) and cowered as the hand tore a large hole on the Tower.

When the hand withdrew, everyone stood up and started to scatter. Specter Knight picked Plague Knight back up and pointed his claw at him, hood pulled down to appear furious.

"His potion allowed Shovel Knight to grow into a colossal-"

The tip of the giant shovel collided with the base of the Tower.

… followed by girly screams.

"Give back Shield Knight!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for queen.**_

 _He was chasing a scared but cute tiny bunny rabbit._

 _King Knight just went along with the premise of his story being him chasing a little bunny rabbit._

 _He went after the frantically hopping bunny without questioning why he was doing so. If he was awake, then he would have questioned it despite his sheer stupidity._

 _It also didn't occur to Dream King Knight that said bunny was a lop-eared rabbit that resembled Propeller Knight's without the propeller blades on top. Two floppy ears stuck out of the helmet. Its head and ears were gold in color, and its body was green. Its hind legs were black on the feet and white at the tips. And Propeller Bunny was hopping away from him as fast as he could, crying like a baby (another fact that should have woken the usurper earlier, but as we know, he is fairly dimwitted especially in dreams.)_

" _Come here you bedswerving propeller!" King Knight screeched at the frightened bunny. Propeller Bunny screamed. An oak tree suddenly sprouted out of nowhere, complete with a rabbit hole below. King Knight swiped his hands, but narrowly missed the rabbit. Suddenly, a tiny yellow bird with small wings and a tiny Hoverhaft helmet materialized out of thin air and circled the bunny, screeching confusedly at it. King Knight paused to squint at the bird, who had two flags coming out of its tail. One was the French flag and the other was… a yellow flag with tiny details on it. He didn't recognize it._

 _Propeller Bunny stopped moving._

 _King Knight swiped him, grabbing him by his large floppy ears and laughing in victory. Propeller Bunny started screaming in either pain or protest._

" _I have you now, you annoying French-"_

 _The tiny propeller bird screeched and flew to King Knight's face to poke his eye with its beak. Annoyed, King Knight swatted the bird away, to which Propeller Bunny cried. Hoverhaft Bird landed painfully some meters behind the usurper._

 _He held the ensnared bunny to his face and grinned smugly at the bunny's face. "Where's your help now, you nightmare?"_

 _The bunny just sobbed._

" _I'm taking you back to Pridemoor… put you in a cage somewhere." He turned around then stared down at the bird surrounded with pink ooze. It wasn't moving, and all the bunny could do was shed choked tears. It cried more when King Knight ruthlessly put his foot over the bird to crush it._

 _But when his foot came down, there was no sickening bone crunch or an explosion of poofy feathers. Nothing._

 _The yellow bird turned into a shadow, pitch black and creeping on the ground on its own. The shadow separated into two small tendrils before meeting behind King Knight. The proud knight turned to see the shadow jut out of the earth, shooting up a black slender figure. Two protrusions appeared on the thin object's side. The central shape fattened a little as the protrusions became long, which then abruptly shooting out to form large wings. The sky turned from aqua blue to blood red, and the winged creature grew and grew in size until it became as large as a tower. The head formed a sharp yellow meat-eating beak that could tear the largest of humans apart. It eyes were as red as the sky itself, burning with anger and disgust. Its talons were sharp like well-polished razors and its feet were large enough to grasp three big men in its clutches._

 _King Knight dropped the bunny, who happily hopped towards the giant monstrous bird, turning its ears like propellers and flying up to its head. It landed comfortably on top of its head and braced on the monstrous bird's tufts with its tiny paws. For a moment all the bird did was kind of coo to the bunny fondly before thrusting its man-sized beak right at King Knight and letting out an unholy screech at his face._

"AAAHHH!" King Knight shrieked himself awake. His heart beat too fast, and his eyes were wide in fear. His crowned helmet was a bit tilted to the side. Everyone was staring at him in bewilderment. Mole Knight and Plague Knight were both leaning away from him. Polar Knight just stared at him, the turkey leg in his fingers and his beard a little greasy. Treasure Knight, Tinker Knight, and Specter Knight leaned to King Knight, all curious of what just went on. Propeller Knight was standing up behind a Ho-

King Knight screamed at the black bird that he saw in his dream and pointed at the puzzled German Hoverhaft.

" _Geht's noch…?"_ Albrecht chuckled nervously at the insane king of Pridemoor and faced Propeller Knight. "You told me he vas uttering your name over and over again vhile he vas asleep, and zhat's vhy I'm here, right?"

" _Oui_ , and now he's screeching at you."

" _Ach. Herren, wirf Hirn vom Himmel! Oder Steine, Hauptsache er trifft."_

"King Knight, get a hold of yourself, hey!" Mole Knight shook the whimpering knight. "Dammit."

"You are _pathetic._ " Specter Knight dryly muttered. "What is it with Propeller Knight _again…?"_

"He was a bunny rabbit. I swear. Propeller Knight was a bunny rabbit. When I got him by the ears, this little yellow chick turned into a giant monster bird! There!" He pointed at the now normal-looking human with a halberd and a propeller fan on his back. "I swear I saw him become that bird!"

"It fits him!" Propeller Knight laughed. "You grab me by the ear, he comes and chops off your head."

"I'm not as violent like zhat, you twisted Frenchman. I prefer skinning him alive."

"Did you just call me pathetic, phantom bitch?!" King Knight hollered at the phantom too late.

"First of all, I am a male creature, you oaf. Second, I am wondering what the Hoverhaft will do when… say… _Propeller Knight becomes Queen of Pridemoor?"_

Albrecht tensed for a moment (with Propeller Knight _ohonhoning_ nearby) before delivering a string of colorful words, but not along the lines of "I will skin him, show him his innards, and bathe in his blood" and more of bewildered outbursts.

"I saw you hit on Propeller Knight when he was wearing a long tunic. Do you forget I know your darkest secrets? _"_ Specter Knight ominously chuckled.

"Well, in my defense, I had to wear a long tunic because my trousers suffered a coffee-related accident…"

"NO!" King Knight gasped. "NO! PLEASE! I BEG THEE!"

And so exploded the news of King Knight mistakenly hitting on Propeller Knight.

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for quote.**_

" _Let the_ _sun shine on your face, my love!_

 _Your eyes twinkle with courage, but blinded by hurt._

 _Your hand, mangled by blunt hatred and force_

 _Will be held by mine as it heals, as we both truly suffered._

 _The infernal rage of Hell, you have felt_

 _As I do now, and so on and on, that is my life._

 _I have done all in my power to save your soul_

 _And up to the heaven, at least, you can climb."_

 _Lady of War, your gown is stained with the crimson we both know_

 _My hands hold an ocean of innocents, while you spilled only small rivers_

 _Both of us are sinners, but you are a courageous angel_

 _And I am the worst demon, the worst sinner, a wanton murderer."_

 _Honestly, my heart beats when I see you!_

 _I shall be honest and true to you. My words will be soft._

 _I will stay true to our promise, my precious relic._

 _Let the sun shine on your face, my love."_

 _The dread of night has passed, and the morning calls for you._

 _I shall take my leave, but I plant a kiss on your lips, and in the night I shall return for you, and you only."_

Such a poetic last verse, Tinker Knight thought as he rubbed his eyes and pushed his tiny body up.

To think he spent a sleepless fortnight inventing the Waking Clock, as he called it. Instead of an annoying cuckoo bird screeching in his ears, he created a simple clock. Every morning it plays lines from literature he loved. Today, it was an excerpt of the end of the epic named "The Lady of War", an old story depicting the titular warrior woman and the legacy she left after too much tragedy.

How informative the clock is. Children can wake up to a clock reciting poems.

It is amazing to think Tinker Knight created his own clock specifically because he hated cuckoo clocks.

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for quintessential.**_

The giant bright red warrior tapped his claws on the table as the three samurai sat on their knees before him. He was somehow able to grasp a bird's plume, dip it in black ink, and write _left to right_ on a sheet of clean paper in a clearly foreign calligraphy! How odd, the liquid warriors thought in unison, but chose to remain silent. He was one of their master's subordinates and everyone should be treated with respect and courtesy.

 _Wait, what master,_ the inquisitive blue shifter, a newborn liquid samurai, asked itself.

"What are your names?"

Ever so stern and courageous, the red swordsman pointed to itself and spoke in its deep garbled voice. " _Ore wa Aka!_ "

" _Watashi wa Midori. Hajimemashite. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."_ The archer bowed its head low.

" _Boku Ao…"_ The new shifter giggled, like how all the blue samurai do.

"Right, right, _arigato gozaimasu…"_ Mole Knight jotted down his peculiar observation. _'Blue ones are all Ao, red ones are all Aka, green ones are all Midori.'_

And the interview went on like a droning buzz, like a boring and adult-y chapter in life. Stupid things like "have you seen this pot fifteen months ago" (which, honestly, all of them said yes, even the infant blue agreed even if it was barely two months old) were asked, and it started to make the little blue shifter think.

And think.

And think more.

It was odd to see a silent shifting samurai that wasn't in blob form and sleeping. After the interview, all tiny Ao could think of was _what was with it that made it so doubtful, so confused, so scared._

All it wanted was to go out, sleep, got to bed, play the piano, go to sleep, sing, hide from any Aka and sleep between cracks in the walls, and fight with all its might.

All Ao samurai want what it wants.

Come to think of it. All of the Aka guys love to fight - they live to fight and die in a fight. The Midori samurai love to take some time off and exchange places while they do and keep a cool mindset to observe the atmosphere.

They also seem to share the same memories, so they all should be the same, right?

So, when it has a question, should everyone else have the same thoughts too?

It seeped its liquid body through tiny crevices and holes in the floor and attached itself to the ceiling of the lower storey, watching the red swordsmen spar and practice intensively. There was almost a uniform movement among all of the red ones. Their swords went from the center above, and slashed downwards with a stepforward, then withdrew with a step backward. They put their swords up towards their face and then struck powerfully in a diagonal motion downwards before cutting back immediately to spin around on their foot to strike diagonally upwards. They all spun back to their original direction, lowered their swords briefly before raising them up, twirling on one foot, and slashing on an imaginary shadow behind them.

How uniform.

How homogeneic.

How… disciplined.

How… anti-individual.

 _What?_

It suddenly fell off the ceiling. The blob splattered to the floor in front of the senior Aka training the newborn ones. It reformed back into humanoid shape afterwards, stupefied and dizzy from the unwanted fall.

With an uncharacteristic tinge of concern, all the red warriors stopped and all asked the little Ao if it was alright.

" _Hai."_ The young Ao sputtered, standing up in its humanoid form.

For some reason, Ao patted itself on its chest and giggled at the now-pissed crowd of Aka's.

Then it hit him.

The knight with the giant claws and fire on the headdress once (in a past life memory?) said something in his foreign language that it didn't quite understand at first.

" _Language is a mirror of history and culture, and what you say can already say something about their way of life. We need to learn the Japanese language to understand them better."_

There was no beating liquid heart in its chest.

But they had a word for such a thing.

" _So what is 'kokoro'?!"_

An awkward pause of the red ones staring at him and saying quietly, " _there is no word such as 'kokoro', Ao…"_

" _But I remember sometime that we all had kokoro!"_ Ao reasoned, a wave of confusion hitting it.

Then suddenly, images in his small watery mind flashed.

A rich lady, in her white and red kimono and thick makeup. Samurai walked around her and bowed to her.

Red, green, and blue. Divisions of specialty.

Admiration.

She was powerful. Magic appeared in her palms and provided them all with nourishing water to drink when tired. Water to heal when hurt.

Respect.

She gave them all food and shelter and honor when they fought for her. Her silky garb would look like flowing water. Water.

Love.

" _Kokoro is spirit-"_

And, just with that, there was a loud noise, both in high and low pitch, forcing them all to retreat in their small blob selves and escape to safety in tiny cracks, but Ao couldn't fall back into the safety of his sleeping form… it- _he_ clasped hands over ears and screamed at the sound to stop, to cease from hurting him too much. The water of his body loosened their cohesive hold on each other. Drops of blue liquid started forming and his cool liquid body started to vibrate so much.

He fell to his knees.

The heart in him that just started beating was ripped out by the sound.

He collapsed in an unrecognizable puddle of blue water, rapidly turning into violet, then black, before disappearing into the thin air.

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for questionable.**_

It would be ridiculous to believe something audacious such as "Propeller Knight is the bright sun of the Flying Machine" despite the fact that its meaning can give one an idea of how he leads his crew.

The trip out of the captain's home estate after a particularly intense clash of emotions was painstakingly slow and dull, even with the captain putting on a convincing mask of cheerfulness and finding so many picturesque valleys and shorelines and mountains.

And, over time, everyone just accepted their present.

Until, however, a time when they flew into a curious barren patch of land in an otherwise lovely valley somewhere to the east of France. The feeling of something off started when they reported the dark and lifeless soil. And then that happened, and then this happened…

One day, Propeller Knight had to go to the curious Tower to negotiate with the terrible witch that lived in it. And after a short time he and his bodyguards came back with fake high spirits.

Again.

 _Why does he do that,_ the captain of the guard down to the janitors all wondered to themselves as they watched Propeller Knight immediately retire to his quarters. _It's bad for him._

When the crew asked as tactfully as they could, even Abrecht, _de facto_ second-in-command couldn't spit out what transpired inside. The others with him were a little too quiet about what truly happened… eyes wide, hands shaking.

 _How they were ruthlessly dangled just right above the turbulent waters of a messy death._

 _How the entire ship had been in mortal danger, for a magical cannon had been aimed at the Flying Machine all the time, and if they tried to leave they would have all been erased from existence and history._

 _No, don't think about that… it's so terrifying._

"Ve are all stuck in zhis 'Order of No Quarter'." Albrecht then explained the worrying situation to them as clearly as he could, detailing just what they wandered into. His heart ached a little when he saw the panic arise in the non-Hoverhaft crew.

"What are we going to do…" "This is bad! How did this happen?!" "Why are we in the problem, too?" "We're doomed!"

"Calm down!" Albrecht barked abruptly. "Let's all stay put. Zhis problem can be solved if only ve carefully analyze zhe situation. Zhere is _no_ point in panicking vhen somezhing grand and hostile appears."

"You must be different, then." One of the hover crew piped up meekly. "After all, _you're still a German._ In your homeland, maybe every problem has a solution, but now… there's nothing we can do."

"But ve should be a little more hopeful, shouldn't ve?"

He watched the crowd assembled before sigh and give up. He grit his teeth and then shouted as loud as he could.

"In behalf of zhe captain, I order zhat anyone zhat dares step into zhis airship vithout permission will _die_. All of you, kill as quickly as you can in the best of your ability! Destroy zhem all! Repel all unknown and hostile entities. Show no mercy to anyone who endangers the Flying Machine!Ve vill resist until our last breath, and even if ve lose, _ve are not going down vithout a fight!_ "

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for quarter.**_

" _Armies collapse quickly when the soldiers have nothing to rally for. If the general gives his hungry men enough bread in times of hunger, the soldiers will be swift to action and will pledge their undying loyalty."_

King Knight hummed in wonder.

" _If the general refuses to soothe the rumbling stomachs of the soldiers, he will find himself powerless and weak."_

The usurper's brows raised at the sharp change of tone. _How informative_ , he thought to himself.

" _As a ruler, give your men happiness and entertain their needs, and if so, they will give you love."_

"I have a decree!" King Knight closed his book as he bellowed his statement. A feather quill, a cup of ink, and rolled paper were immediately brought to the throne, and the pretender immediately set to write his order. "I shall have a competition of strength and intelligence! Everyone enjoys those!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for query.**_

It was a beautiful and peaceful day.

The 'Magicist' watched the kids below her window playing with hoops and running as fast as they could, a sunny smile on her lips and an endless amount of magic boosts to conjure. She poured white sparkling liquid sweetener into a flask dull gray and viscous magical essence and reeled her head back to avoid the dangerous puff of smoke that erupted from the flask. Ethereal blue replaced white and gray. The flask in her hands started to feel hot, and then she placed the new magic booster in a shelf with many other bottled full of the same liquid. Thank goodness Plague Knight got her some new sweetener after he flew off with all of her last supply.

And then, quite mechanically, she reached for a new flask to start working on new

"Kind Magicist, we are in need of your assistance." A buoyant female voice with subtle authoritative undertones interrupted her job, but her hands still couldn't stop.

Without turning to the voice, the 'Magicist' just continued with her permanent work. "Oh… hi there. Do you need any… what was I going to talk about again…"

With a smile, the woman with platinum blonde hair and dark eyes turned to the tall man with thick brows raised in bewilderment. "One, this is the Magicist."

"Cecille- Two, yes, I know. Hehe." One sheepishly laughed it off.

Six stepped forward and waved his hand in front of the 'Magicist'. She blinked, and then finally looked at the group of seven in her little shop. She almost stepped back in sheer surprise, and if she did, she would have toppled the cauldron and cause an alchemical tragedy that might turn the people inside into living mush. A dark purple moth entered the shop from the window and flew suspiciously by the 'Magicist'. She flicked the moth off her and sent it flying around aimlessly.

Roman cleared his throat. "Well, I think we should be straight to the point, One."

"Agreed, but help me put the moth out where it belongs. Might mess up with the dear Magicist's work." Gil brushed his slightly long silver hair back when he felt an insect walking on his hair. Four, or Feliks, who was taller than him by two heads, swatted the moth away, but ended up accidentally killing it on the old soldier's head, and balked in disgust at the apparently glowing violet guts and blood that ended up on his palm and head.

"You should be a little more precise, Feliks." Five growled and crossed her arms.

"Sorry." Four showed the bloody palm to her. "I'm going to have to wash it off. Gil, let's get that thing off your hair by the fountain."

"No, let's just clean it after we talk to the Magicist." Gil smiled.

Somewhere to the north, in a tower, a demoness chuckled at the foolish mortals that dared fight her.

"Oh, all is well, knights." The 'Magicist' generously waved it off. "Why are you here again?"

Siegfried shrugged a bit, and then spoke to her with a new air of power. "We might need something that can combat the undead. We are expanding our territory, and since we are quite close to the territory of the Order of No Quarter's most infamous member, we might need more equipment to combat him-"

"So you want to kill Specter Knight? He's already dead." The Magicist, gaining some of her true mind, raised her brow at the entire group. "I'm afraid I am not that powerful to negate the magic that keeps him undead. The Enchantress is unparallelled in terms of power and wits, and Specter Knight being revived is a testament to it. I do know of someone..."

"If it's _possible_ to kill him, I'll be glad to do it _right now._ " Five snapped grouchily. "If he's gone, then we'd have less problems and less headaches."

"I think you'd all like that possibility…" The blonde turned to her shelf, reached to the back, and pulled out a blank sheet of paper and a roll of yellowed paper. She handed the aged paper to One and then sat down on a chair to pick up a quill and scribble on the blank leaf.

"What's this?" Siegfried carefully unrolled it.

"A map, brave knight." She answered without looking up at the paper. "I request that you go to the place marked on it tomorrow afternoon, for we need to book a reservation for him."

"And this leads to…?"

"My cousin in the woods west of Pridemoor." She replied, putting her quill down. She politely gestured to Roman. "Also, was it your daughter that came to my shop some time ago to learn alchemy? I think my cousin is a better teacher since he has too much time."

Roman smiled courteously. "I appreciate it, but I would have to see who your cousin is."

"Oh? Okay. Please refer to my cousin as Anart."

"Anart? Anti-paintings?" Gil tilted his head, quizzed.

"I don't know why he picked that name, too. Sorcerers don't like people knowing their real names." The Magicist paused for a moment and sighed pitifully. "He _has_ spent much time alone there, in the middle of the forest, so I don't exactly expect him to be in the right mind."

There was a small silence.

"I'm not letting Ophelia near him, then." Three piped up.

"If he can eliminate our threat immediately, I don't see a problem." Five shrugged.

"We'll go see him." Siegfried rolled the paper and nodded to her. "Thank you for your help."

/*the day after*/

Siegfried sheepishly checked his map and compass, two other supreme knights behind him and curious. Their subordinated trailed behind them, also looking confused.

"Well, that's what is in the map…" Six shrugged and glanced to the garden in front of a house.

There was a scraggly man with fair hair with a ridiculous asymmetrical bangs haircut and some stubble. His blue eyes shone with authority and serenity but his not-so-clean face, desperate hair, dirty grern cape just screamed "tramp in the woods". Yet he sat outside of a small and humble house in the middle of a clearing, enjoying his afternoon tea with porcelain cups and plates as well as a general gentlemanly smile. His pinky was even up and not touching his teacup like how royalty seem to do it.

"Good day, gentlemen!" The cloaked gentleman-tramp waved to them with a smile. "Are you lost?"

The soldiers approached the curious man cautiously.

"We are looking for Sir Anart." Four announced solidly, tilting his chin up and stiffening his back.

"That's me!" The tea person grinned widely, then put his cup up to his lips for a small sip of tea. He let out a deep sigh as the rich taste of his own brew soothed his mind and body. "Are you the knights my cousin Magicist wrote to me about?"

"Indeed, good sir."

"So, I think you don't have a problem with King Knight." Anart waved a hand. "You have a problem with Specter Knight and that _evil bitch who got me here in the first place I want her a large bloodstain on the wall-"_

Green magical aura surrounded his fisted hands, and when he banged it on the table, sparks of yellow and white erupted from his fists and danced briefly before fading away.

"Please calm down, sorcerer." Six gently said.

"Well, before I dilly-dally…" Anart waved his glowing hand around, letting his fury disappear. _A serene mind lets you channel your magic better._ The trees and sky and grass shimmered and warped in everyone's sight, the dizzying distortion both terrifying and amazing. The soil turned into hard cold stone. Walls of shelves with books of different colors and sizes appeared, and the ceiling so far up. Tiny orbs of bright bluish light floated around lazily, like slow fireflies in a tranquil night. Bubbling cauldrons were neatly placed apart of each other in a shelf-less corner. Some cloaks and capes were hung nicely on a coat rack, and various wands - crooked and straight, long and short, dull and bright, polished and unpolished, broken and pristine, all kinds - were kept in their own little shelf.

"I made the Flare Wand. I made the _Flareo Wand._ I made _many things_ in my lifetime, all of them a testament to my power." Anart boasted darkly. "And now I shall do it again, this time much, _much_ more powerful than even Serum Supernus… at least, marginally?"

Siegfried glanced at Gil and Feliks and shot him a 'help me I do not know what to do' look. Hardened knights, all of them dumbfounded by this half-insane man they were referred to for assistance.

"What if I make something that negates undeath?"

"Is it possible?" One asked. "If so, we are gladly accepting your services."

A wide nigh-malicious grin found its way to the sorcerer's face. He pointed his still-glowing hand at a book high up in the opposite shelf. Its pages flipped on its own once it floated to a fixed distance before his manic eyes.

"What happens now?" One asked after inching away from Anart.

"Now?" He chuckled darkly. "Let's practice sorcery."

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for question.**_

Plague Knight was unusually serious that day.

Everyone also felt like… being watched.

"Magicist, I know the duplication potion is also causing your upper double to lose awareness and have bad short term memory." The little alchemist murmured.

"I know that too, but _I_ actually did it and not my double." The blonde girl replied, dropping the dead moth's remains into a jar of transparent liquid. It immediately turned dark violet, and the woman in blue widened her eyes in surprise. "This moth possessed too much magic in its body… what species is it?"

Plague Knight ignored her statement. "But why did you tell _One_ , the entire Order's mcost threatening enemy as of now, _the whereabouts of your cousin,_ who, I don't know, happens to be _both_ an alchemist and a _sorcerer?!"_

"It's to remove any suspicion of her, you know." Mona crossed her arms.

"That's right!" The Magicist beamed.

"How does it remove suspicion-"

"My cousin happens to be trapped in the forest, Plague Knight." The Magicist interrupted gently. "I joined the team to help him get out of there, too, you know. Everyone up there knows I do alchemy. They don't mind because I just do magic boosts and health potions. It's the helpful alchemy that keeps them at bay, but there are risks… so I gave them directions to Anart's hiding place!"

"You cousin's name is Anart?!" Plague Knight squawked. "Anti-paintings?!"

"Not exactly, his real name is A- oh wait, no. I'm not allowed to say his real name. Sorcerers usually get into really deep trouble with demons who know his occupation if their name is uttered."

The team felt the tension loosen up a little.

Somewhere to the north, in a tower, a demoness hissed in frustration.

 _ **.**_

 _ **Q is for quiet.**_

King Knight's guards were roving around the stadium, keeping watch on the peasants and commoners and nobles all watching the horses and their equestrians race around the track. The sentries loyal to King Knight just watched the competition below instead of keenly observing the cheering audience, the majority rooting for an equestrian named 'Arthur'. He had a bow and a quiver of broad-ended arrows on his back, wearing a hunter's smock and jacket. He played as a 'hunter of wild horses'. Many others dressed as lightly armored knights, a parody of nobility, minstrels on horseback, and a croquet player. Horsemen were the noisiest of them all cheering on their brothers and sisters and cousins and great grandfathers and third degree cousins twice removed, whinnying at the top of their lungs for promises of rewards in oats. Occasionally they neighed right in the ears of the circling guards.

But all was well.

In a balcony high above was King Knight, happily watching the horse race in the track and the noisy spectators contentedly. His plan seemed to be going swimmingly. People were happy. Food was given out. There should be at least more loyalty for him.

Anything sharp like butcher's knives were confiscated outside. Blades were absent in the stadium except for the swords of armed sentries walking around.

Everything should be safe. Security was tight.

"Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!" The crowd cheered unanimously when the man in hunter's outfit led his horse through a series of tightly-timed obstacles.

"It seems to be working." King Knight muttered happily to himself as he sipped wine. "Ah, the kingdom is happy."

Arthur looked up to the left, at the monarch of Pridemoor, his bright and happy eyes hiding a hidden agenda. The crowd cheering his name, the other participants already lagging behind him-

There was an audible high-pitched whistle, lasting for a little too long than the other whistles.

He was so close to the finish line, to the final hurdle that would give him the reward he all so craved. Arthur smiled.

Then the long whistling sputtered into a staccato of seven bursts. The woman behind the whistling grinned, her dark flowing hair concealing her face.

 _There's my signal! Thanks, Five,_ Arthur thought, and the world slowed down from frantic speed to a snail's pace, the sunlight so bright and dizzying that King Knight, to his sight, was the darkened target.

The horsemen whinnied and then kicked the nearby guard's upper spines as powerfully as they could. Their hooves connected to the tempered metal and left a deep and fatal dent on the armor. Concealed knives within commoner men and women's padded sleeves were brought out and driven into the exposed necks of unsuspecting guards.

The crowd erupted in screams at the sudden bloodshed. Reinforcements from outside entered immediately, but the volume of people trying to get out and freedom fighters assaulting them in the same time pushed them back out.

The rich partisan nobility, seeing the commotion arise within the commoner's level, began to file out of their luxurious balconies, only to be blocked by the knights of the undercover nobles and facing their bloody deaths.

King Knight stood up, horrified at the scene below him.

"The insurgents are here! How did this happen?!" He screamed. "Arrest them all! Get them, dead or alive!"

Arthur, the Seventh Knight of the Supreme and Venerable Society of Pridemoor's Children, laughed. _You made a mistake,_ he said to himself _._ He grabbed his bow and picked out the true arrow. He then swiftly aimed it up at the distracted usurper of the Order of No Quarter.

He let go of the bowline.

King Knight gasped and moved a little, the broad arrowhead grazing his puffy cheek instead. Golden eyes stared down wide at the now-scowling Arthur.

"You, too, Arthur? The greatest equestrian of-"

"I am the Seventh Knight!" Arthur shouted. "Your days are numbered now, false king! Say your last prayers!"

 _ **Up next: R is for rules.**_

 _Translations:_

 _Dummköpfe! - Idiots!_

 _Geht's noch - are you still sane? (slang)_

 _Herren, wirf Hirn vom Himmel! Oder Steine, Hauptsache er trifft. - Gods, throw some brains from the heavens! Or stones as long as he hits the mark. (basically what Germans say when they encounter the worst of stupidity. They aren't fucking about, people.)_

 _The Japanese the Liquid Samurai are just many variations of "I am _"._

 _Hajimemashite. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu - Nice to meet you. Please be nice to me._

 _Also, the Propeller Bunny idea came from a dear friend on Tumblr, spincontroller! I'm also failing spectacularly with my author blog, too. I thought I could post the characterization posts now but I thought it would be too spoiler-y so I reserved them for the end of this series instead..._

 _I would also like to address the Banana Knight joke's problem - people seem to think it's his armor but it's actually the silhouette of his boss sprite! Take away the scythe and the claws and you have a Banana Knight._


	18. R is for rune

_Wow, 50 reviews! Thank you guys. The visitor count has also doubled! What happened? Was there a promotion I wasn't aware of? Or a lot of people suddenly got interested?_

 _BY THE WAY, Shovel Knight has a cameo in Yooka Laylee, with a voice! His voice lines consist of "oh", "yo", "oho", "hoho yo", and the like, voiced by Sean Velasco. It's how SK sounds like according to YCG. It's so funny! Shovel Knight is the official king of cameos._

 _To Monkey999Boy: Yes, they will have to slay the innocent banana. The spooky banana is a very dangerous banana and it needs to be eaten before it becomes radioactive._

 _To Saturdaylemon: Yeah, mistakes were made. I wasn't exactly paying attention to the amount of screwups in the previous chapter, but I assure you, not only the knights made big mistakes. And nice! You got the TF2 reference! Anart is probably the Medic, only with magical powers, talent for embroidery, and deadly loyalty. Haha!_

 _To Doodle Knight: Thank you for such kind words, hero of doodles! Many have expressed a love for my collection of manuscripts and written literature of many brave and loving knights of the past!_

 _To MultiShipper: There is one of King Knight near the end :)_

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for reality.**_

Mona crossed her arms and blew a stray strand of bluish hair off her face. She tucked it behind her flower crown and smoothed her elegant wedding dress, then stared blankly at the scene before her. It was a confused if not completely terrified crowd, a former band of insurgents suddenly scrambling for their greatest weapon courtesy of the Magicist's mentally unhinged cousin, an offended and somehow uninvited specter (she swore she wrote his name in the invitations, but maybe he had more enemies than friends, which isn't really so surprising), and her _ten more seconds of peace and really would be_ husband furiously screeching.

By now the rebels couldn't find their magic weapon. Anart himself was instead weeded out from the crowd and forcefully pulled out.

"Gods damn it, knights, can't a gentleman have his rest?" Anart hurriedly fixed the utter fashion disaster that was his dark but decent violet suit and trousers and utterly eye-offending golden shoes. His glance fell on the hissing reaper, and he turned back to his friends with brows knit lightly. "I thought you already killed that guy?"

"Mona! _S'il te plaît!_ It's a matter of life and death!" Propeller Knight begged. "You're the only one that can stop Plague Knight and Specter Knight! I can't send my Hoverhafts in there without casualties! _"_

"Indeed. I can pick up Plague Knight and blackmail the ghost."

" _Quoi?_ Mona. No one can blackmail Sp-"

Mona lifted a hand to shush the captain. "Let me count to ten before I start."

 _One._

" _I demand respect!"_ Specter Knight yelled, the yellow flames of his palms intensifying into bright white. His ghost servant pulled and held onto the tapering ends of his cloak, her hands beginning to get sore from the force. The corroded sword she had picked up before was lying several feet away from her.

"Master, please stop being so angry! People will die!"

Specter Knight snapped. " _Oh yes, people will die if THIS LITTLE BIRD DIDN'T APOLOGIZE!"_

 _Two._

A second nitrogen triiodide-cluster bomb reappeared in Plague Knight's hand. He let it roll it at the two phantoms. Mitzi yelped, let go of her master's cloak, and put her arms up to shield herself from yet another large explosion. Specter Knight flew away, dragging along his terrified maidservant.

 _Okay. Enough._

Mona marched to the middle of the mess, picked up the bomb, and chucked it out and away from the ceremony proper, and faced Plaguey with a glare of doom. She crossed her arms, allowing the noise to die down. The small gourd-shaped bomb let loose clusters of intensely heated volatile explosions. Then, she picked up the small alchemist and held him up like a baby.

" _I_ invited Specter Knight." Mona spoke in a low tone.

Literally everyone else gasped.

"... you did?" Specter Knight softly muttered. "When was the last time I was invited to ceremonies like this? I… don't remember."

"Master, you don't have to!"

"If he was invited, he would have been his _edgy smelly_ self!" Plague Knight huffed and crosses his arms, pouting under the mask.

"I'd specifically request him to not be edgy and smelly. I have my ways." She tapped her foot on the floor and stared at his eyeholes as she tried to send him a telepathic message about the flask game. _If he loves playing my game he better behave in front of me._

"Oooohhhkay, can everyone just calm down now." The Bard-slash-priest-slash-probably not a yacht god held his arms up. "We can start over... and forget this entire thing-"

" _I_ can cast a spell for us to start over! Ahahahaha! I CAN GET BETTER CLOTHES TOO!" Anart cackled as his hands started glowing green. A magic wand with a small five-point star hurriedly glued at the end of it appeared in his hand. " _Este ivi, seit vor rewin…"_

"Sorcerer! Please listen to the Bard!" "Hey, yo, I'm in charge here! I can rewind time on my own!" "Anart, wait!" " _Anart wait for me I still have to kill Specter Knight, I have found it!"_ "I'll just say this since you'll forget anyway, I LOVE HER SO MUCH!" " _YOU DARE?!"_

There was a swelling sound of energy charging, followed by white light from magical water appearing from thin air and then a hurt scream from the apparition.

Anart held his wand aloft, ignorant of the murder happening behind him. A bright yellow light shone from the wizard's wand. " _Avisal!"_

/*one wave of a wand later*/

"... I do!" Plague Knight grinned happily. Finally, finally! They're husband and wife!

"I am _so_ proud of you, _mon petit ami._ " Propeller Knight cried small tears of joy. He dabbed his handkerchief on his eyes gently.

"You may now kiss." The Bard muttered before closing his book.

 _Kiss._

Albrecht frowned at everything and whispered to Propeller Knight. "Vhy do I feel like zhis has happened before?" He then pointed to a tall blond-haired gentleman with a red longcoat, a wide-brimmed hat, pale face, an awkward smile, and a general aura of suspicious activity. "And who zhe hell is zhat?"

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for reference.**_

"Oho, yo, ho ho!" Shovel Knight wailed in the pillow-lined room. His arms were in an oversized white jacket and were in a crossed position. Its long sleeves were tightly strapped to his body. He was probably saying _'I'm not insane, I swear!'_ and yet no one can understand him. "OHO HO HO OH YO YOW."

"I'm sorry, Shield Knight, but he's lost it." Black Knight sighed. "I always thought of him to pass in the blaze of glory. Not in the insane asylum."

"He was rambling about adventuring too much before this happened, Black Knight!" The lady in red armor slammed her fist on the table. She turned to the giant knight beside her and pouted.

The Stalwart Knight of Ice and Snow grunted. "Shield Knight. What damage has been done cannot be undone."

"He was talking normally before last week…" Shield Knight hung her head and breathed out deeply. "He was weird then…"

Polar Knight placed a large hand upon her back and softly spoke. "Tell me what he was saying."

Her words came out rapidly. "He was saying how he got lost in a foreign world to the east," she gestured to her right as if to stress her point, "and he encountered a young girl with an axe with some unknown magical power. He fled, and crossed paths with an equally lost traveller with blue skin, black eyes, and orange and red mantle. He made friends with this mysterious warrior, talked with the girl, and then parted ways. After that he fought a god, raced against three talking toads, played gun tennis, and told of his travels to young warriors and passed out when he was hit in the head. He then journeyed on to find a lizard and a bird who hooted and hissed at each other."

Black Knight and Polar Knight both stared at her with raised brows.

"That's what he said."

"Yo ho! Oho oh yo yo ho!" Shovel Knight shouted from inside his room. "Ho ho yo oh!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for roast chicken.**_

"Since Plague Knight isn't coming to our morning meeting to cook for us," King Knight announced, standing up and gesturing wildly, "I have honorably commissioned Propeller Knight to cook us the food, which is roast _turkey_. Unfortunately…"

The rest of the Order glanced at the empty chairs between Specter Knight and Mole Knight.

"Propeller Knight is… preoccupied. Good thing he sent someone to get us all roast turkey and take care of the catering-"

The doors of the hallway suddenly burst open. Dozens of Hoverhafts and Hover Meanies with platters, baskets, and drinks droned into the mess hall, led by no one else other than _the scary Hoverhaft always tailing the Frenchman._

"Ve have brought all zhe roast chicken you need." Albrecht announced as his men systematically laid down platters and forks and knives.

"Thank you, now trot along now-" King Knight made a shooing gesture.

" _Nein!_ Ve vill bring back all zhe utensils and plates back to zhe Flying Machine vhezer you like it or not!"

Bread and coffee were then politely placed before everyone in woven baskets and porcelain cups. Specter Knight reached immediately for bread. Mole Knight prodded at the weird porous orange object in his basket.

"What's this?" The anthropologist asked, breaking off a piece of it and putting it in his mouth.

Albrecht coughed a little before speaking. "Zhose are coffee, _pain au chocolat,_ lye bread, garlic bread, and zhat zhing you are poking is a recipe from _meine Mutter,_ bread made with carrots and potatoes! _DO YOU LIKE ZHEM?!"_

"Yes." Specter Knight flatly answered. All of the garlic bread in his basket had disappeared.

"How did you… wa?" Tinker Knight gestured to the spook's basket and looked at Treasure Knight.

"Whrrt thrr frrk. Hrrw did thrrt happrn?"

"This tastes horrible. It's like mashed potato without spices..." King Knight spat out the carrot-potato bread.

"Well! Your mother's recipe is quite delicious." Mole Knight interrupted, swallowing the strange bread. "Genuinely!"

"I shall pass zhat compliment on, vhen zhe Enchantress lets us send letters home."

"Oh. Well, I hope you can sneak some to France and the German States."

"Vell." He wheezed for a moment, then quickly hid the spots of red on his palm. He nonchalantly wiped it on the leather on his arm. "Here's zhe roast chicken."

Indeed, roast chicken was plopped down on everyone's platters. Only Polar Knight and Treasure Knight got two entire chickens while everyone else only got parts.

"We specifically asked for roast turkey!" King Knight started his bitch fit, only to be shut down instantly.

"You'll eat your food, because if you don't, I vill kick your balls!"

The usurper stood up and banged his fist on the table. "You have no right to yell at and threaten royalty! I am a _king_ and you are only a lowly knight!"

" _Dummkopf_ , I vas born vizh Prussian blue blood!" He brought out an hourglass and slammed it on the table with all his strength. "Zince zhis is a _morning meeting_ , I only allow _forty-five minutes_ to finish your food. If you can't finish your food under zhe time limit, _I vill kill you._ "

"I wish our meetings would be as organized as this." Polar Knight quipped. "There is a keeper of peace while we all move forward."

No wonder King Knight has nightmares about these two flying men.

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for reject.**_

Specter Knight wanted to repeatedly bump his head repeatedly on the table, hoping that it would kill him by crushing his skull. But then he remembered he just got resurrected, so dying would take more effort than just attempting to hit his head until he died like _looking for a friend and getting caught in a trap-_

"What's that?" King Knight looked over the young phantom's shoulder, peering at the neat and thick resume a certain 'Baz' sent to the newly-formed Order of No Quarter. _Yeah, we shouldn't have put up flyers and publication materials for new members._ "What kinds of people are we getting?"

"Stupid ones." The ghost gestured stiffly at the thick application papers. "I will _not_ tolerate any more dull and unintelligent members of the Order of No Quarter. One is one too much."

"... there's only the two of us. What are you talking about?"

Specter Knight grabbed the 'rejected' stamp and immediately banged it mightily on the Baz' resumé's front paper. He flung the folder away and then stamped the next one as well. He angrily threw that one to the door and screeched at the monarch. "No more!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for reverse.**_

"... yeah, he's very generous! He gives out nice encouragement when we first started here!" The Hover Meanie idly twirled his hood's tapered end. "He's so nice and kind and wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"And you don't mind not being paid?" Tinker Knight said in a monotone voice. He tightened the nut on the Hover Meanie's propeller blade and spun the fan around. "Propeller Knight is in the Order of No Quarter and I'm shocked you still work for him."

"As long as I get food. We're not exactly home now and we have to conserve our resources so we're all just fine with surviving, _monsieur_." He shrugged. "I still want to go home, though."

"I can relate." Tinker Knight murmured, so focused on fixing the Hover Meanie's defective propelling device that he didn't hear the crisp steps of thick boot soles.

"Is the repair going well?" A light and soothing voice chimed in from behind the engineer. Tinker Knight almost bashed his wrench at the tall gentleman's hip if it weren't for the distance. Propeller Knight just laughed at the cute little display of flailing and general clumsiness the tiny man did. The engineer, understandably, huffed and pouted from behind his welding mask.

"You spooked me!"

"And you should stop being so jumpy. Specter Knight wasn't even trying to scare you and he said you fell off your stool!" The Frenchman started laughing his annoying French laugh and Tinker Knight couldn't find a reason why he can't just wreck the carefully-designed and weakly protected miniature machine on top of the noble's head. But then he remembered that a long time ago, Propeller Knight said that Albrecht said that his _Kaiser_ said that the Westphalian Order of Technology said that their engineers had greatly decreased the weight of an otherwise deadly helmet and increased the energy efficiency and directional mobility and managed to fit rotors, an entire engine to control cyclic pitch, anti-torque, hovering, steering, and speed control into a head-sized helmet and handles, _yada yada yada technobabble._

Basically he couldn't punch it because it was improved by German engineers as genius as he was. And it would utterly ruin the captain's nice face, but yeah, he still wanted to break his nose. It would make the Frenchman even more French, though. And there's the fact Tinker Knight can't even jump up to the flyboy's height.

"Well, it's fixed. I still have to run tes-"

"Don't fly above a fan again, alright?" The Frenchman suddenly crooned at the Hover Meanie. "You would have died there if I didn't notice soon enough!" Then he gasped with eyes wide and smile fading away as quickly as it came. His hazel orbs stared at the large turning propeller within sight for a long time.

The silence from the Airship Frenchie was both relaxing and concerning. But then when he spoke...

"Have you ever thought that the coolest thing about propeller blades is you can just throw something you don't like into it and it will take care of it for you?"

Tinker Knight froze, his overworking but not necessarily helpful imagination instantly assuming control of his brain.

 _His emerald-colored jacket and shimmering golden buttons were marred by the dark streaks, smeared on him by his own bloody fingers. The ends of his sleeves and the entirety of his dark gloves were stained maroon when he had dipped his hands in the gaping avulsions and deep stab wounds in warm flesh. The heat of the freshly-killed corpse had almost burned his skin, and it had felt like tongues of flames licking at his skin, but the rush of bright red had made his smile grow despite the searing pain. The white spats of his shoes were covered with a thin layer of congealed blood, and his knees were soaked in red. When he stood up, he turned to the bloody propeller fan, still turning as someone hosed water on its cap and boss, preventing it from losing its turning speed and momentum. The captain's Hoverhafts held a quivering man, his face grimy and his dirty hair disheveled, as if he was disturbed from sleep and brought to the execution immediately. They kept him in place even if the captive thrashed violently to try to escape._

 _The captain nodded with a sadistic grin, and the man was pushed into the moving fan._

 _Blood sprayed onto the captain's face, and he even licked off the drops of blood that got on his lips._

"I don't think I'll sleep…" Tinker Knight murmured.

" _Pourquoi_?" Propeller Knight asked innocently. The inventor just glared at him.

"The deadly propeller."

Yet the Frenchman still couldn't help but spout more thoughts. "But isn't that why they are called 'choppers'?"

"SHUSH. FOR THE LOVE OF THE YACHT GODS BLEACH MY BRAIN."

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for rune.**_

"Look at the runes I carved by hand!" Anart gleefully boasted to One, showing off the black wand's thick shaft at the latter's face. "I'm truly dexterous, am I not? My needlework helped me with the accuracy of the rune spells!"

"I'm sorry, but where are the wands we commissioned from you, sorcerer?" One sighed.

"This is it!" The _gentleman_ pushed his wild bangs up and behind his head and pointed to six other copies of the same wand. "This is for you," he pushed the wand in his hand into One's palm, "and this for you," he grabbed a second wand and plopped it into Two's hand, "and the rest for you."

Anart proceeded to drop the wands that he _totally_ didn't copy with a replication spell into the waiting hands of the insurgent leaders.

"What's this?" Seven asked, raising a brow at the sorcerer.

"They're wands." Anart narrowed his eyes and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I mean, what are they used for?"

The wizard chuckled, and snapped his finger. A smoke cloud appeared behind him, and as the puffs dissipated in air, a trapped Invisishade floated aimlessly in its glass cage.

"And…?" Seven continued with his brow still up. Anart responded by snatching his wand from his hand and then kicking the glass cage. The panel shattered, and as the Invisishade attempted to float out, he aimed the wand at point blank and fired it.

The Invisishade's black eyes squeezed shut and its form trembled and faded before it exploded into corporeal glitter.

Anart smirked at the knights assembled before him. "So? You wanted to kill Specter Knight, I had someone bring me one of the lighting balls from the Hall of Champions and reverse-engineered it to make this! _Aren't you excited?!_ If it can kill ghosts, it can kill Specter Knight!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for retake.**_

"Look, Four, I got a letter from my little sister Five." Siegfried giggled a bit when the messenger pigeon flew by the rail of the balcony. The highest in rank of the Society grinned stupidly at his subordinate of a sort, to which Feliks crossed his arms.

"Siegfried, I'm going to speak as your friend here. You are a grownup, and you really should stop embarrassing your sister." Feliks spoke lowly.

"Have I told you about the time when she was still around four years old-"

" _One_." Four interrupted.

"Alright, alright." One carefully extracted the roll of paper from the pigeon's leg and read the extremely formal letter.

 _All points around Pridemoor Keep have been captured and is in the process of fortification. At the western part are Six and Seven, Two has amassed a large army at the south, and as planned Three and I have captured the northern points. If the pretender flees to the east, you and Four shall intercept. There might be possible hiding points so Two and Seven will occupy the keep first before we put our true King back on the throne._

 _We have started forming an encirclement around the keep that will act as a barrier and a connector of sorts. I hope your plan goes well._

"They're all following the operation to the letter." Siegfried smiled softly. "And before the end of winter Pridemoor is ours, and after that…"

"There's no rest, One. To the east is the Lich Yard and we have to take it back swiftly from the Apparition. It would be harder than a simple _coup d'etat_ , and we have to shift the ranks around a bit for your mental health."

"I'd still like Five stay in propaganda. I don't want her taking my place and duties against anyone in the Order of No Quarter. "

"I know. It's already unsafe to have two siblings in the high ranks. But she is her own leader now. She can handle it."

One breathed out, slouching forward. "I hope so. Please hand me some paper, a quill, and ink."

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for risky.**_

Anart almost spat out his tea in an ungentlemanly manner when he saw hordes of moles all emerge from their tunnels simultaneously. Within their whiskery mouths were pieces of torn paper, and the sorcerer couldn't help but notice the puzzle piece-like pieces that were truly intended to be puzzle pieces.

He watched the moles shuffle around, putting their respective papers in an arranged manner, and Anart could make out the rectangular shape and scribbles on the paper. He swayed from side to side as he impatiently waited for the moles to finish their work. He turned to his unfinished tea and instantly decided on finishing it before anything else.

Once he sipped the last of the minty green tea, he glanced back at the moles. Now he really spat out the tea, the sight of moles sitting in neat rows beside the whole letter like behaved children completely taking him by surprise. After an intense moment of quieting down his pounding heart he actually took to reading the message in the paper bits. It was a short message in printed letters.

 _I know you are a sorcerer. And I know you hate the Enchantress. I have vital information about her past and life, if that term even applies to her. It is important in your operations, yes?_

Anart giggled in excitement, his laugh turning into a borderline _evil_ cackle. A quill, some ink, and a piece of paper materialized out of a pink orb in his hand, and then he started scribbling his answer on it.

 _I am interested in your offer. Write me!_

 _Are you also interested in buying some tailored clothes? I have jackets, cloaks, and coats with various designs such as floral, celestial, nature, air, fire, and water. I also accept custom outfits. I have silk, leather, velvet, mink, fleece, wool, fur, coarse, you name it._

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for rumor.**_

Specter Knight adjusted the brim of his black hat, its wide brim completely shrouding his pale face in shadow. He had traded his flashy red coat for a heavy dark gray one. The mid-autumn wind was coldly blowing at the townsfolk. Windows were shut, and every person outside was wearing cloaks. The occasional bird person had their feathers fluffed to trap more heat. Horse men preferred to stay in their stables.

The ghost walked along the commoners. He could smell the aroma of fresh bread loaves from the bakery, hear the children playing in patches of dry leaves, and simply watch the couples snuggling together. In this form, anything good can happen, such a shame he had to be spied on by a pair of omnipresent eyes when he wanted to visit this place.

So peaceful. The folk sometimes went up to talk to him, a strange traveller who periodically came to the town for bread. He almost considered buying some trinkets to avoid being the "bread wanderer". Maybe make some connections with the folk to seem a little more human. A possible good thing to start with a social life was matchmaking. Just to get the girls off his heels. There was already someone. Yet he can't be with that someone anyway.

But it was just all an elaborate game of pretend. All was just a ruse, true reflection of his manipulative tendency and sad existence. How he wished to be truly alive again, to breathe, have a heartbeat, have warm flesh, fall in love, get heartbroken, miss loved ones, start a music and dance studio, maybe have lots of children, eat all the garlic bread he liked, make many friends, die peacefully, and move on to the next life without so much guilt and unfinished business.

 _What was the point of eternal undeath if these things were out of reach? All of the time in the world to spill oceans of blood and get drunk with it, something like an addictive psychedelic drug that needed more after each dose._

"And we'll circle the keep, and everything will be finished before the end of winter!"

The reaper turned his ear to the passing knights, smiles on their faces. The spectral auras around them were bright and cheerful colors like exciting green and passionate orange. They were very young, a little too young for soldier duty. Two of them were noisy twins. One was a particularly boisterous lad. The rest were chatting along.

A group of chipper, carefree knights.

 _Raises some memories._

"And when we're finished, Five said we'll take on the Lich Yard and beat all those ghosts to the heavens!"

"How is she sure we can do that?"

"The Seven Knights got some special magic from a crazy-ass person from the west and got them some ghost-killing devices!" The obnoxious knight could almost jump to the moon with excitement. "Isn't that amazing?"

 _What? No! I… can still get killed?_

The others raised their brows.

"You're shitting me."

"But it's true! Five won't lie to us! If they had to, they'll kill the Apparition!"

Specter Knight glanced at his shaking hands, before glaring back at the group sharply and walking away from them briskly, heading to the direction of the eastern gate.

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for repayment.**_

The large sack full of gold coins wasn't enough to stop the bird person from vomiting at the sight of his building. It was enough to buy two castles but not so helpful for making the sight inside prettier. He could only gag and feel his stomach retching at the sight of his shop, forcing his bird beak closed to stop regurgitating the worms he had eaten for breakfast earlier.

Many of the large thick tables were overturned and smashed. Splinters of varnished wood littered the red, sticky floor. Shards, both big and small, of porcelain plates, cups, glass mugs, and unfinished bits of food were scattered across the area, and the stains of wine, whiskey, and something _other_ than liquor or sauce were on the floorboards and walls. Large holes were everywhere, as if someone very strong had punched through it. One hole, though, was filled with bits of bone and brain.

Pools and trails of blood made the entire building smell like rust and shit, and the sight of messily dismembered corpses made it look like a scene of utterly cruel murder. The dead bodies all belonged to elderly men who had all once served at the civil guard, all granted honorable discharge and were celebrating their decades of service to the kingdom. Their arms were ripped off with nothing but sheer pulling force, and one of them had their insides scooped out.

There had been one survivor before the bird person arrived, and sadly he died moments before he came. It was a merciful death, for his legs were shattered and his ribs broken.

He had said that they were punished because they had battered a small puppy to death many, many years ago and they could only faintly remember it.

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for responsible.**_

Propeller Knight walked slowly through the corridors of the engine crew's quarters, trying his damnedest to stay upright and not buckle from the sudden heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders. _Just one talk to explain myself, please_ , he thought to clenched his teeth at the horrible nightmare that was the day before. Maybe if he didn't have an outburst at his parents, the crew would still be safe-

" _We're actually staying here? In this desolate place?!"_

" _I don't like it here!"_

" _It's horrible here! There's an evil witch, I don't like it, I want to go home!"_

" _But we can't leave. The captain has said that if we leave, we all die."_

" _I'd rather be executed at home than stay here forever!"_

The airship's captain pressed his back to the wall, keeping his body hidden from anyone. He nodded a little to the last sentence. He would rather die in France than in this unknown valley.

" _I don't like it here, I'd rather die than stay here."_

" _Why did this happen to us?"_

" _Sacrebleu. It's just_ his _fault!"_

Propeller Knight gasped a little. That was… directed at _him_. Not anyone else. He felt his breathing start to become labored as the walls, the floor, the doors, and even the faint nightlights started to warp and close in around him.

" _If anything, blame him, not us."_

" _You're right."_

" _Do we really have to blame him?"_

" _... yes."_

He sprinted away, not caring about the sound of his heavy soles on the metal floor.

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for return.**_

The Stalwart brought out the red and gold yarn scarf from his drawer, sighing deeply at the unfinished article. The knitting needles were still there. The scarf only needed a pinch of length for it to be completed. Sadly, the recipient was presumed dead.

"I bring good news, Polar Knight." The Tundread reported. Polar Knight raised a brow. "It is about Shield Knight. We have sightings of her in the Armor Outpost. We have confirmed it _is_ her, for she had been with Shovel Knight."

There was a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest that washed his mind and soul, and for the first time in years, he felt the corners of his lips curl up in a soft, relieved smile. His gaze shifted from the Tundread to the warm scarf in his hand.

He then quietly continued his knitting, for it only needed a pinch of length for it to be completed.

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for repeat.**_

Respect was a very honorable term in the Japanese language. It rung of honor.

And in this case, Mole Knight accidentally got the respect of the Liquid Samurai through… whatever happened. And the knight was happy he could conduct an ethnography in an easier manner.

"Alright," Mole Knight explained to the rows of formally seated samurai, "you can understand English, yes?"

" _Hai!_ " came the collective answer.

"And you can't speak English, yeah. So, repeat after me. 'It's delicious'."

" _Sore wa oishīdesu!"_

"Hello."

" _Konnichiwa!"_

" _Wurst."_

There was a deadly silence. The Japanese mumbled among themselves.

" _Vurusuto…?"_

Mole Knight hurriedly wrote it down. _Wurst doesn't exist in Japanese culture! If confronted with a foreign concept they could create a new word based on it with their own phonology._

 _Eureka!_

Well, it was one more thing to show his students…

If they wake up.

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for ramen.**_

Ao let its amorphous weapon dissolve into its hand as soon as its small violet gaze fell on a large white and blue porcelain bowl of yellow noodles and soup that Mole Knight totally didn't set up for his research.

Its tiny purple eyes were looking intently at the bowl of hot noodle soup thing. There were short chopsticks beside it, and the blue shifter couldn't help but sit down before it.

It raised a liquid finger and repeatedly tapped lightly at the hot bowl's lip. Its free hand took the two sticks, a vague memory in its tiny liquid heart lighting up. It held the sticks within its four fingers in such a way that it could grasp small objects. It placed its pitch black face over the bowl, smelling the warm vapor. It didn't notice Aka with crossed arms and a frown behind. Midori was hanging over the two, silently watching in case of a loud telling-off.

"Uwaa!" Ao blubbed happily, dunking its face into the bowl, not minding the heat. Two strands of noodles entered its mouth, and it abruptly pulled its head up. Its eyes were now pinprick and nigh invisible.

Aka put its hand on Ao's shoulder, and then hollered at the catatonic samurai.

" _Ao! Nani wo shite iru?!"_

The red swordsman glared at the unmoving shifter for a long moment before it started to shake the other in sudden concern. Ao's arms flapped around.

" _Kora Ao! Ao! Nani wo-"_

Ao abruptly turned its head with a pair of happy eyes. _"Sore wa… oishīdesu!"_

Aka blinked. "Huh?"

" _Sore, sore, sore, sore! Umai, umai, umaize!"_ Ao gurgled incomprehensibly at the bowl of ramen.

" _S-sōdesu ka...?"_ Aka sat beside the rambling warrior and dunked its face into the bowl _._ It gasped gleefully for once and exclaimed its new favorite… food's name? What's food?

"Haaa! _Oishi!"_ Aka smiled for the first time in history.

Midori's interest was piqued, and it dropped off the ceiling to investigate. " _Nani-"_

"Uwaaa _!"_ Ao gave the archer the bowl. Midori hesitantly took the chopsticks and prodded at the ruined noodles.

Midori glared up at the two giddy warriors and shoved a piece of noodle into its mouth. It pricked up and gasped. " _Sore wa oishīdesu!"_

Ao gleefully waved its arms around. " _Hai, hai! Umaiiiiii!"_

The Enchantress' brows knit together and her teeth clenched. She prepared a small sphere of magic and let it float to the three samurai, her dissolution spell pulsing with slow and painful power.

A second red Liquid Samurai stormed in, a serious look in its eyes. Many others followed before it. In fact, the majority of all the samurais trailed behind because for the first time in history an Aka behaved out of-

" _Huh? Nani?"_ The second swordsman looked at the ruined noodles, and dipped its finger in the thin soup. It stared at the dripping soup.

" _Sore wa oishīdesu!"_ Ao cheerfully quipped.

" _Sōdesu ne?"_

" _Mm, hai!"_ Ao placed its hand upon the other's head to show it its own memories, the sheer new and lovely intensity of a thing called flavor…

The witch hissed and took back her spell, the orb fading away into a mere harmless wisp. The memories have flowed.

There was no point stopping the news of a mysterious bowl of ramen that tasted great.

 _ **.**_

 _ **R is for restore.**_

"If there's anything to restore, it's _my_ rule, it's _my_ right to dominion!" King Knight screamed at his war ministers, throwing his scroll on the sand table, knocking over the red wooden stand pieces shaped like a sword and spear crossed together with a gladiolus flower, the insignia of the revolts, that surrounded the immediate area of the Pridemoor Keep. His eyes were wide and his breathing was deep, his heart pounding away at the part of his life that surfaced before his very eyes.

 _The young servant boy yelped as a large hand struck his left cheek hard. The poor boy instinctively covered his stinging cheek._

 _That would be the one hundred eighty-seventh slap._

" _If there's anything to restore, it's_ my _son's welfare. I don't want you to be around him, bastard son." The nobleman hissed at the boy, even sparing some time to knee the fragile boy's gut. He tumbled to the floor, coughing out blood. The boy's amber eyes flooded with tears at the sight of the red spots on the floor. His vision blurred whenever he moved._

" _I'm… sorry, sir."_

 _But it wasn't enough for the grown-up. He grabbed the boy's platinum blond hair and lifted him up with it. "And look what you have done to the floor!"_

" _I'm sorry!"_ You kicked me, _he thought, and he almost blurted it out if it weren't for his entire body falling yet again to the cold, hard floor. A flare of hatred burned in his soul._ If I could, I'd have your decaying body publicly displayed.

" _I want you to clean my office, I want it spotless by the time I come back." The nobleman rapidly ordered. "If you haven't done that when I come back, that would be forty lashes."_

"But, sire, our military is clearly unfit for fighting against the sheer numbers of the insurgents! Every town they conquer, they systematically eliminate our supporters! All of them were gibbeted! Even the women, dear gods, the women! They publicly displayed all their dead bodies! They weed out the soldiers loyal to us and unhesitatingly break their legs! And with every territory gained, their army swells, and ours shrinks!"

"Then think of a way to reverse it!" King Knight yelled as loud as he could.

 _He pulled the unlocked table drawer to rummage through it. Trash was everywhere, in places he couldn't simply reach. Like it was all done on purpose._

If I was in power I'd thrash you within an inch of your life and leave you to rot in the dungeons!

 _To the young boy's surprise, there was only a scroll with a broken seal. Finding no dirt inside, he shrugged and unrolled it. He'd get the forty lashes anyway…_

I can read just a little _, he quietly thought. There was the name of the estate's previous owner, Sir Mordred, also known as the Iron Margrave. And in it, something called a "last will and testament". The boy asked himself what on earth was a "will" and a "testament", but he let his gaze drift downwards._

 _He gasped at the last sentence on the paper._

' _If this illness takes the last of my breath away, I give my estate and riches, in whole, to the unborn son of Letizia, the head servant._

 _Signed with truth and moral uprightness, Mordred the Iron Margrave.'_

Wasn't my mother's name Letizia?

 _The boy ran out to talk to the head butler and show him the scroll, the question of his mother's name burned to his head._

"I have talked to Specter Knight, and he has promised to help us in time of need." King Knight slumped backwards on his throne.

"Why not have a war of attrition with them?" One of the advisers piped up. "We kill their soldiers, and we have Specter Knight reanimate them?"

King Knight raised his brows, suddenly feeling giddy and excited. "It's possible!"

"But isn't the Lich Yard overcrowded as we speak-"

King Knight waved a hand. "His problem, not mine!"

" _His mother's name is Letizia, sire." The butler smoothed the young boy's hair. The nobleman glared furiously at the clean face,good clothes, and smug grin of the servant boy. The child with the man raised his brow out of curiosity at the servant boy._

" _And what of his mother?! I will have you fired if-"_

 _The butler calmly unrolled the yellowed scroll, and immediately the nobleman paled. "This is the official document of the Iron Margrave's last will and testament exactly twelve years, four months, and two days ago."_

" _A-and what of it, then?!"_

" _The estate and money of the Margrave, which you have used to spend, has all along been for this... 'servant' boy." The gloved hand of the estate's loyal butler soothed the dull ache on the boy's hair._

That was _my_ money you wasted on that child! Pay it back with your life.

" _Father!" The other child looked up to the nobleman, whose fist was clenched. He brought his fist up and intended to strike the servant boy. The butler pulled a hidden blade from his sleeve and pointed it at the man's neck before he could step forward and hurt the true heir._

" _I may be old, sire, but you forget, I was captain of the guard." The butler murmured before lowering his weapon. "Let us work this out diplomatically. I shall be the boy's guardian. Don't you agree?" He turned to the small boy._

 _There was a long pause. The boy's smile faded, looking up at the ceiling in thought, and when his smile was back it was even wider, with a hint of malice in it. He nodded._

 _The nobleman just huffed and stormed away, grumbling._

King Knight paced back and forth, playing with his fingers. "That is right, if we somehow get Specter Knight to fight for us, and I think he will, the souls of the fallen will automatically be his, and the enemy army's numbers will be curbed."

"Brilliant idea, sire!"

"I might get Propeller Knight's airborne help, too. We have an air advantage! But knowing him, he is lazy and will not even get off his ship. I can still talk."

"I think Specter Knight is enough."

"But I want his Hoverhafts!" The usurper childishly whined. "They are terrifyingly efficient and unreachable."

 _Orange is such a beautiful color._

 _It was the color of the sunset and the skies around the setting sun and sunsets are very pretty to watch. Sunrises are also beautiful, but it was in the other direction, yes. As true heir of everything, he can sleep long after the sunrise._

 _It was the color of his eyes. Okay, maybe his eyes were a little lighter, but orange is close enough. Well, there was yellow at the thing he was looking at so it's an acceptable choice!_

 _It was also the color of fire, the fervent passion and infernal anger of twelve years or so, engulfing part of the estate. Namely, the part where the other child and the house's master slept._

"Well, it seems the phantom reaper has some work to do…" King Knight chuckled. "Send a squad of knights to summon him here."

 _ **Up next: S is for switch.**_

 _Translations:_

 _Ao! Nani wo shite iru?! - Ao! What are you doing!_

 _Kora, Ao! - Listen, Ao!_

 _Sōdesu ka? - Is that so?_

 _Oishi / umai - delicious_

 _The idea of 2p!Propeller Knight, AKA the violent bloodthirsty airship Frenchie, came from my friend spincontroller! Their tweet about "the coolest thing about propellers" basically didn't let me sleep well that night…_

 _References are of Indivisible (and within this I also referenced Hyper Light Drifter, which also makes a cameo), console exclusive events, Azure Striker Gunvolt 2, The Reward: Tales of Alethrion, and Yooka Laylee._

 _Please don't hesitate to tell me about typos and errors :)_


	19. S is for sentimental

_To Monkey999Boy: You wanted hell for the insurgents? I have given them hell. Well, it's as if I_ _ **totally didn't**_ _plan on letting them have a bad time. Cue evil laugh. Bad time? Sans? Hee hee._

 _To Saturdaylemon: Would you like some of my spare bleach?_

 _And oh my yacht gods 13k+ words._

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for stranded.**_

/*Day 27, in a tropical island somewhere*/

During the early morning, Mole Knight had found enough stone for a shelter, and brought it up to the surface for the others. Their resident engineer immediately set on to work for plans to build a decent-sized house for them all, with restrictions such as no layer of adhesive and possible rainfall. King Knight then did his job of asking stupid questions, and accidentally caused the plans to be a little more efficient. More space was added for the monarch's comfort.

At midday, Plague Knight reappeared, and was welcomed with mixed reactions. Turned out he had teleported to the other side of the island with a bomb set off by the sun's intense heat. After some sleep, the alchemist worked on creating stone adhesive using sand, water, and alchemic transmutation fluid. The other knights had to let go of their only big pot for cooking and watch in doubt when the alchemist performed some things related to witchcraft and created the adhesive within minutes. Polar Knight and Treasure Knight carried the stone according to Tinker Knight's instructions without a complaint. In the meantime, Specter Knight sewed himself a new leaf umbrella to shield himself from a more powerful sun that could now burn him despite a strong resistance to such. A ray of sunlight had shined on his face through his visor and he had woke the others up, screaming for freshwater to extinguish the imaginary fire that burned his entire head. Banana plants started to become a little more tolerable. He twirled the new umbrella around and, when satisfied with its durability, set out to help build the house by slicing the stone into 'bricks' with his absurdly sharp scythe.

At afternoon, Treasure Knight displayed an uncanny control of his gigantic body. He was able to refill the seawater-to-drink device Tinker Knight made a few days before without toppling and breaking the vital invention in half. King Knight decided to stop walking to the shore to wash his cape and drink more water instead, and started complaining about a frog that had gotten in his cup. It took the entire Order to put Propeller Knight back to his calm self.

At twilight, the wind started to blow too harshly, and they started to build a fire behind the unfinished house, avoiding the sea breeze.

Polar Knight held the sleeping Frenchman in his arms, rocking him from side to side every now and then. Propeller Knight smiled in his sleep, mumbling softly about friends and family, hugging, and his home in France. The father knight dearly wanted to ruffle the younger knight's long hair, suddenly reminded of his poor little girl. The latter's helmet was being taken apart by Tinker Knight, who was beside the giant shoveller. Concentrating on not breaking the makeshift screwdriver he had, he separated the Heli-helmet's delicate parts and cleaned them of dust and sand. Specter Knight diligently placed the 'bricks' to finish the house's last wall, taking his time to make sure the stone were aligned properly. Treasure Knight arrived, bringing an armful of edible fruits. King Knight went to eat the only mango, pissing off the bounty hunter, who had taken the mango for himself. Fortunately he hid a mango in his armor, anyway. Plague Knight turned away to remove his mask and eat his star apple in peace and privacy. Mole Knight went for surprisingly sweet bananas.

It was a little too quiet.

"We aren't fighting too much now." Mole Knight chuckled. "I guess this would be the only time we agree immediately."

"Don't see to it much." Tinker Knight bitterly spoke.

"I wish we would all be this peaceful." Polar Knight muttered under his breath, rocking the lightweight man to deeper sleep. "Moments like this are rare in the Order of No Quarter."

Mole Knight rested his back against the wall. "Ah, yes. We all appreciate the little bits of silence."

"We'll be stranded here for a few more days." Tinker Knight pointed out. "So... more times like this?"

The others shrugged.

"That is alright for me." The Stalwart replied, and the others nodded in agreement.

It was a serene and beautiful night.

"Airship…" Propeller Knight happily mumbled in his sleep, dreaming of going home with all his crew. " _Je vous aime tous…"_

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for strength.**_

"Come on, Albrecht! We are just going to demonstrate the tango to _petit ami_ here!" Propeller Knight insisted in front of his Hoverhaft friend. The latter's arms were crossed.

"No."

"Dance with me! Come on, you're off duty anyway!" The captain gestured to the lack of the fan blades on the halberdier's back and the missing helmet and outer armor as if to state the obvious. The German's eyes were glaring the stare of doom.

" _Nein."_

" _Si'l te plaît!_ "

Albrecht responded swiftly with a very strong stomp to the Frenchman's foot, and the captain yelped out loud. He hopped on one foot and clutched the other, hissing and yowling. The halberdier stormed away, turning his back and half-striding to the view window. He cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt before going out of earshot.

"That's a little unfair." Propeller Knight complained, wiggling his toes and making sure no bones were broken. "Anyway, in tango, you may need to carry your _chérie."_

"How?"

The next thing the little alchemist knew, he was lifted up in Propeller Knight's arms like a baby. He flapped his arms around and almost screamed, if it weren't for the slight frown on the other knight's face.

" _Petit ami,_ this doesn't look right."

"No shit." Plague Knight muttered as he was gently placed back on the floor. Propeller Knight spun around to have his back facing Plague Knight.

" _Ami_ , I'll be falling backwards, so try to catch me!"

"Wait!" The alchemist gulped as the Frenchman allowed himself to fall backward.

Of course, Plague Knight only flinched in response. The Frenchman tumbled backward, eyes closed and expecting his friend to catch him.

When Albrecht glanced at them, he could not stop himself from letting out strange chortling noises at the sight of an utterly betrayed and teary Propeller Knight sprawled awkwardly on top of a squishy scientist.

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for salesman.**_

All was peaceful.

Birds were singing. Flowers were bloo-

"Hello, diver knight!"

Treasure Knight furiously twirled around on his foot, only to be greeted with a rugged man with unkempt hair, an unsettling grin, and suit and cloak. He eyed the man from head to toe, noting the traces of a five o'clock shadow and evidence of a few loose head screws judging from the mismatch between the utterly fabulous purple suit and the dirty cloak. A few tiny twigs and some leaves were caught in the cloak's threads. He warily clutched the small box and trowel in his large hands, protecting it with his life.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?"

"I call myself Anart, diver! Would you like to buy some cloth from me?"

"I _can_ buy, but I won't." The bounty hunter stepped aside, only for Anart to dash in front of him and wag his finger.

"Oh, no, no, no. You're going to be my first real customer in decades!"

"I won't be sharing my gold to you."

"Aha, but can you resist this?" Palms glowing bright gold, he waved his arms. A small white quilt with golden threads and bright yellow orchid designs materialized in his hand, a wicked smile on the salesman's face.

Treasure Knight stared at the _gold._ And then back to his puppy's coffin.

 _Cha-ching._

/*later, at the Fancy Hat Shop*/

"Do you think that, if I kill Specter Knight, I can be a ghostly reaper?" Baz wondered aloud.

Phantom Striker wanted to smack his head on a table. "Kill me and see if you will become a cyclonic menace."

"No, it doesn't work that way! If you kill King Knight, you'll be an assassin and not a king!" Reize Seatlan reasoned out. He then pointed at Mister Hat. "If you kill him none of his hats would work on you!"

"Still worth a try, though." Baz muttered sheepishly.

"There's an attempt on my life?" Mister Hat asked, ripping his gaze violently from Phantom Striker's spiky helmet.

"No, I was explaining why-"

A bright glimmering figure abruptly formed beside the Wandering Traveller's corner.

Mister Hat unsheathed his sword as soon as the woods-gentleman appeared in his shop in a flash of glitter and light. That cloak with that _hood!_

"Hat, do not do it!" Baz screamed, ready to cannonball on top of the hatman.

" _HOOD!"_ Mister Hat pointed his sword at the sorcerer, who defensively raised his hands up.

"I'm only here to sell my cloth!"

" _Hood lover!"_

The sassy sorcerer put his hands on his hips and thrust his jaw out. "Well, what do you think sorcerers should wear? A horned headdress? That's reserved for practitioners of black magic! I'm certainly a gray magician! And those black sorcerers deserve to be crushed under a heel! An iron heel!"

"Fair point." A random bird customer chimed in.

"BUT THE POINT STILL STANDS THAT YOU ENTERED MY SHOP WITH DIRTY CLOTHES AND A _HOOD!"_

" _HAT!"_ Reize pulled at his coat. "PLEASE, NO!"

Phantom Striker chuckled, leaning against his chair. "Let him be-"

"Encourage a fight again, Striker, and I'll break you in half!" Baz started cracking his knuckles.

The blood knight caressed the handle of his lightning rapier. "Let's see if you would overcome my power. Shall we test you abilities? Out in the fields. Let us duel."

Now Reize had to deal with three immature adults. _Who's the kid now,_ he asked himself.

"Get out of my sight, hood lov-"

"But cloth can become hats!" Anart cackled, before pulling green felt from thin air. He swiftly twirled around and, at the drop of a hat, the green felt was turned into a well-crafted top hat. He strutted over to a peacock-person, plucked out a feather from his tail ("Why must you take away my power to seduce ladies?!"), and stuck it on the hat.

Mister Hat couldn't take his eyes off the majestic _hat._

 _Cha-ching._

/*Pridemoor Keep balcony*/

King Knight happily turned around when he heard the whoosh behind him. He failed to notice that the little hum sounded a little more sparkly than the usual quiet whooshing he grew acquainted with.

"Ah, Specter Kni- OH MY GODS you look so alive! And… fabulous! Where did you get moisturizer? I'll pay even if it's undead magic!"

"I'm not Specter Knight, but I heard earlier in the hat shop that he's apparently dashing!" Anart thoughtfully cited. "And I use the fog and mist to keep my skin young and healthy!"

King Knight couldn't believe his ears. "How scandalous! How marvelous!"

"I know right? Anyway, I'm selling mink jackets-"

"I'll take seven!"

"One costs fifteen thousand gold pieces!"

"I'll just take from the treasury!"

"There's also a thirty-three percent increase in price per jacket!"

"I'm taking them!"

Anart's lips curled into a devilish grin. _So gullible._

 _Cha-ching._

/*Tower of Fate, Enchantress' Lair*/

"Hey, Enchantress! You can't keep me forever in that forest!" Anart wiggled his butt in the direction of the unamused sorceress. "Hahaha! I defeat you once again! Eat my cake! It will come out of my ass any second now!"

The witch threw him an unsympathetic glance. "I see being contained there has destroyed your _sanity_ and not your _motivation._ "

"Aaaah! It's coming! Hang on."

"Before the poo comes out," a pulsating orb appeared over her palm and held it out to his direction, "I find it puzzling that you escaped. I shall send you back to your prison-"

"Oh wait, I'm still selling my works!"

She threw the orb at him in exasperation, putting in the entirety of her rage. Hellish flames surged from it as it travelled fast through the air, bright violet light flooding her chamber. With nothing else but an insane smile and fluid mastery of magic he brought his palm up to block her attack. As his eyes glowed an intense jade green, a flat and wide circle appeared before his hand, decorated by runes between concentric lines of rippling waves of water. His green magic blocked the intense purple inferno, pushing his physical body back. He looked back at his cloak, billowing at his back, and laughed at the sheer awesome of the scene. Some of the flames began to burn bright yellow.

He waved his other arm, and the yellow flames followed his palm. The purple fire in contact with the yellow started to lose its heated evil and went along, gradually becoming assimilated. And with one final mad cackle, the fire transmuted into clear and cool water.

She breathed in sharply to contain her anger, her lips pursed. "You have improved, mortal water mage."

His face instantly shifted from crazed glee to unfathomable rage. "Freezing me to death made me stronger, Enchantress! And now I'm more powerful than before! Ice, snow, mist, fog, clouds, even the water inside your bodies are mine, mine, _mine!_ "

"And your fear… has gone away."

" _You_ drained all the fear, and what's left in me is anger and happiness."

"Why did you come here?" She snapped.

"For you to kiss my butt! Later, bitch!" Anart let out an insane cackle before disappearing in a poof of glitter and sparkle. He briefly reappeared to throw a small dirty rag her way before teleporting away.

 _No cha-ching._

/*Propeller Knight's quarters, Flying Machine*/

Propeller Knight hummed his crew's song as he unbuttoned his jacket. It was a rough day, he just got back from an incredibly stuffy meeting room (especially that his seatmate was basically dead) concerning a large insurgent force. And he wanted to sleep for two weeks. He pulled off his green jacket, sat on his bed, and started kicking off his boots to remove his socks and pants when _it_ came.

 _Whoosh._

"HELLO, PROPELLER KNIGHT, WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY CLOTHES FROM ME?!"

"AAAH!" Came the girly shriek from the Frenchman, diving under the silk sheets of his bed to cover his half-naked body.

Anart immediately placed his palms over his eyes. "I AM SORRY, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU DIDN'T HAVE CLOTHES ON!"

"AAAAAAAH!"

"WAAAA!"

The door was kicked open with great force. Part of the knob was destroyed, and an entire battalion of Hoverhafts and Hover Meanies poured in the captain's room. Rapid and angry French and German was spoken. A sorcerer was tackled to the ground by a dozen crew members. Propeller fans were turned aggressively. There was more screaming.

/*after the dust settled*/

Propeller Knight hid under his sheets, his head poking out of the blankets and pillows. He held the edge of his blanket to his neck to hide his half-bare body. If he fumbled with his belt to fix his trousers he'd look rude and _sexual_. Nothing was socially acceptable in this!

He whistled to call the attention of Albrecht, standing by the bound intruder and toeing the line between simple questioning and cruel torture. The German dutifully marched to the bedside.

"Vhat?"

"Let him talk about why he teleported into my room."

Anart interrupted, the binds on his feet and wrists magically loosening. "I wanted to sell clothes! But it just so happened he didn't have clothes on."

Albrecht audibly gasped and then proceeded to gawk at Anart.

"I shall buy one handkerchief." The captain snapped.

Anart's gleeful smile faded away. "That… costs only one gold piece."

"I promise I will buy more." _Please get out of my room because I'm honestly feeling very awkward here_ , he didn't say.

"Well, alright!"

 _Kind of a cha-ching._

/*Lich Yard, Specter Knight's bedroom-chamber of brooding*/

The meeting went… fine. Still boring, still a waste of time. He was surrounded by idiots, and he didn't like everyone even a little bit. The apparition mused to himself, even if he was immortal, he still cared about losing precious time. He absent-mindedly smoothed a pillow as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Under the shadows of his helmet, he felt a wicked grin, much darker than he had ever smiled before.

 _I am so powerful. I have a reflection on mirrors. I am very cool._

 _One of the traits of evil and darkness is vanity_ , a little voice in his head reasoned. He reached for the bedside drawer handle, pulled it, and carefully took out a blue box. He carefully removed the lid, and took out _his_ locket. It glowed a weak yet ethereal blue, and his devilish grin turned soft and loving. _My memories, what is left of my heart and soul._ It radiated warmth and good, and he stroked it a little, thinking of it as a small and dainty ephemeral flower. So beautiful, and yet so easy to break and kill.

Just like how real flowers, in even a soft brush of his touch, would wilt and wither.

He intended for the moment to last, and for his spirit to be reminded of a small hope-

"You know, that's a very powerful trinket you have there."

Specter Knight perked up, grabbed the nearest pillow weapon to his left, and pushed it to the intruder's face.

 _He saw my locket!_

"Who are you?!" The phantasm harshly growled, his claws going for the human's throat. He grabbed only some sparkles as the wizard teleported out. He just felt the back of his cloak get raised, and he angrily covered his backside with his twig hands.

"I'm selling cloth! You might need a lot of it!" Anart caressed the back of the cloak without touching the touchy-feely undead man. "So thin!"

"What do you have?"

"Gold cloth. _"_

Chilly hands immediately covered the sorcerer's mouth. "No."

Anart eyed the apparition from head to toe, substituting the cloak's color to yellow.

 _Banana._

Anart calmly pried his dead hands off his face, stifling a giggle. "Would you like flowing red?" His expression immediately soured when the phantom slightly nodded. "Honestly that's so damn boring! You look like a corpse with liquid blood covering you and giving you billow thingies, and you _want more blood_?"

Specter Knight growled and just put his head in his thin hands.

"Isn't swimming in the stuff becoming a chore?"

"When did I ever say I-"

Anart inched towards the harassed specter and elbowed him with a salesman's smile. "So, here's my deal. You get some red cloth, tattered to your choice, for free! You also get three yards each of aqua blue, dark black, and dancing orange, for the price of one yard each! What do you say, eh?"

" _Dancing orange?"_

"Why, you don't want it?" He stood up and idly played with his magical glowing fingertips. "Too bad. I have some cloth for comfortable bedsheets. You know, for the worn mattresses."

Specter Knight glowered darkly at the sorcerer. " _Out of my domain. Now."_

"I heard you're deadly handsome, and I'm frankly appalled by the fact you don't have a- ooh. Are you celibate? Well, there's nothing wrong with that."

"I _do not_ choose not to, thank you, and if you _obnoxious roll cake-"_

Anart laughed. " _Roll cake?!_ Really, reaper? You look like Death incarnate and your worst insult is _bread?!_ "

" _OUT!"_

"So you are not going to buy some cloth for your trinket? The way you were holding it earlier, it was intimate and oh so-"

" _IF IT MAKES YOU GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, JUST TAKE SOME COINS OFF THE BODIES."_

 _Cha-ching!_

/*Stranded Ship, cliff*/

The aurora lights shimmered in the sky, and the Stalwart could not help but marvel at the beauty. He still couldn't find the energy to smile, when aurora lights were always bright green and yet he was seeing dark purple fire dance in the sky. It wasn't quite right.

He heard a loud fizzing sound to his side, and when he looked, he saw a cloaked and grimy man in a fancy suit, watching the sky with a soft smile.

"I haven't seen this all my life."

Polar Knight scanned the mysterious stranger from head to toe, noting for weapons. But his hands were clasped together on his lap. _No reason to worry about sneak attacks-_

"Do you see this every night?" The person gazed right into his shrouded eyes.

Polar Knight shrugged. "All the time. But they are not always purple."

"Well, I see." He put his right hand up to the sky. Polar Knight reeled back a tiny bit when the stranger's hand glowed green. He glanced back at the sky, and watched as the purple cleared away gradually and soft hues of green appeared in their rightful place in the sky.

"I trust you are a sorcerer." He spoke lowly, almost akin to a growl.

"The most powerful in my family line!" His grin widened. "And I can feel that hag's evil magic up there."

The Stalwart frowned a little.

"It still won't go away even with my negations. And, huh, I really hate the cold." He rubbed his hands together.

"Why do you dislike the cold?"

" _Someone_ wanted me dead and threw me in the cold. Anyway! I am selling cloth!"

"Can you sew?"

He threw a disgusted look. "What do you think I am, a shoe shiner?"

"If you can, I would like to hire you one day to make some coats and dresses."

"Promise it to my hand." He put up his still glowing hand. "Just tell it what you want me to do."

Polar Knight repeated his statement.

"Well, you have made a magic oath, you can't break it or you'll break my heart." He cackled. "See you!"

And in the blink of an eye, what was left of the man was gray and green smoke.

He scoffed. "Wizard."

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for sorcery.**_

There was the sound of a loud waterfall crashing on stone, accompanied by a human shape appearing in a flash of glimmer and twinkle.

"Ah, fuck!" The visitor cried before disappearing and reappearing. The entire room was covered with glistening particles by that point.

Siegfried raised his brow. Feliks, his partner in crime for the operation, looked at the sorcerer with mouth agape.

"I thought you are confined in the woods to the west?" Four inquired with a tone of wonder, to which Anart only chuckled. A small batch of minute glowing spheres appeared on his palm, and he blew the specks to their faces.

Before the leaders' eyes, a moving flickering image of Anart in his usual cloak collecting small pieces of paper from the mouths of moles. After taking each piece of paper, he then kneeled on the ground. He closed his eyes, and the animals shifted and dug back in their tunnels. The tiny pieces of paper began to rustle and tremble, until suddenly, they flew up, revolving quickly around an axis. There was a flashy yet tiny and harmless poof, and after the smoke dissipated, there was a floating piece of paper with neat yet tiny scribbles.

For a while all the sorcerer did in the moving picture was to read the letter, and after that, they could almost hear the ear-grating chuckling as he twirled around with his arms at shoulder level, shooting a barrage of bullet magic everywhere around him.

"... I was able to learn and detect a lot of holes in that wretched witch's magical barrier." Anart boasted with a dramatic pose. "She thinks she can outwit _me_ , Anart, the most powerful sorcerer in the entire family line of the- hey, bitch, get your eyes and ears off me!" He jumped up and down towards a corner, shooting a steady stream of blue energy from his palm.

As Anart hollered verbal abuse at the sorceress watching him, Four sent a glance to One, who sent back an equally uncertain gaze. They had the same thought in mind.

 _Just what was this man doing? So weird… is the Enchantress even watching?_

Both straightened their backs, reverting back to their formal mode. They watched the insane wizard flail around and kick air without any trace of emotion.

"... ack, go to hell, where you belong, you little shit, it was a mistake ever knowing you!"

One cleared his throat. "Anart, about the-"

"Hey, take care of what I made for you lot, because if you don't, I'll be disappointed!"

"You appear before us without an appointment. We are leaders, we are knights."

Anart ceased his relentless cursing and paused. He gasped for some reason, and his mischievous smile returned. A large glowing yellow circle appeared on the ground, looking like a portal to a different dimension with all the unnatural light coming out from it.

And suddenly, a mountain of gold and silver coins popped into existence before their very eyes. And as fast as it came, Anart fell to his knees, clutching his chest. He spat out blood on the floor and let out forced laughter. Siegfried and Feliks leapt to help the afflicted wizard up, putting his arms over their shoulders and intending to drag him out of the quarters. The wizard winced at the hot pain on his left arm when Feliks gripped it.

"Don't worry about me." He said between coughs, looking up at the startled gray-blue eyes of Siegfried. One crinkled his nose at the soft little smile on the face of someone usually maniacal. "So there's some more money for your cause. Extorted it out from the Order of No Quarter."

Before Siegfried could state a thing or two about accepting his help and before Feliks could say something about staying in the way of righteousness and not accepting help from deliberate deception, the sorcerer teleported away in a tiny humble puff of fragrant vapor.

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for shovels and shields.**_

"Dammit, bastard!"

"I was born out of legal marriage! And even if I was that, it should have not affected my legendary status, anyway!"

"Stop taking it so literally!"

"Well, says the one who keeps grabbing my hand!"

"Well, _excuse me,_ my hands are a little too large for the shield's handle!"

"We are carrying a large shield, why are you complaining so much? And your hands are as big as mine and you don't see me complai-"

"PUT IT UP, PUT IT UP, PUT IT UP!"

The blue burrower and the black digger heaved with a great grunt to pull the giant shield over their heads. Shield Knight, holding a red shovel to match her armor, jumped onto the shield with an energetic whoop and bounced off of it effortlessly, landing in front of a Blorb before slashing the sharp Shovel Blade at it.

"WELL, STUPID, LOOK AT HER, SHE'S USING THE THING VERY GOODLY-"

"Black Knight, your English!"

"LOOK AT POLAR KNIGHT!"

Polar Knight stood awkwardly in his spot, a large shield on his arm. He was effortlessly pushing off the Boneclangs attacking him by weakly bashing the shield at them. He was smiling at how a simple and gentle push to the skull already sent the undead warriors falling apart.

"WHY AREN'T WE DOING A GREAT JOB THEN?"

"WE ARE BOTH HALF THE SHIELD'S SIZE, YOU IDIOT."

A Boneclang dug itself out if the earth, and Black Knight shrieked.

"PUSH!"

"PUSH ALONG, DAMMIT!"

"I _AM_ PUSHING IT!"

"THEN MAKE IT LOOK LIKE YOU ARE PUSHING ALONG!"

Shield Knight smiled at the two tiny knights. "So cute. They bicker all the time."

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for sanctuary.**_

 _He walked away from the invisible barrier, nursing his badly burnt left hand. The barrier had sent a course of white-hot electric flame all over his arm, and it hurt, it hurt so badly. His cashmere clothes were ruined by the violet flames, and he bemoaned at the loss of such expensive cloth. He clenched his teeth and fought back the tears flooding in his eyes. That unseen wall enclosed a space of forest, and only he could not walk through it. Terrible beasts could._

 _The air was so cold. So, so cold. With nothing but clothes a little more than undergarments covering his body and a hooded woolen cloak, he had no choice. The cloth on him provided a bit of warmth, but it wasn't enough. He blew on his pale fingers, fearing frostbite and trying not to drop the dry twigs he held on his right. And there was fog. It didn't matter though, since he could see through the thick cloud covering the trees. A small magic spell gave him omniscience, and his gaze fell on a large rock overhang nearby. He trudged toward it, half-thanking the Enchantress for imprisoning him within a forest with none of the wretched tree roots jutting out of the earth._

 _The wind started blowing. Thunder roared in the sky. Curiously, the lightning did not even flash. He breathed a tiny gasp._

I don't want to freeze to death. She wants me to freeze to death, all alone _._

 _He reached the overhang, and stared up at it. The rock above was more like a cliff with a cave at the bottom. A good hiding place._

 _He almost jumped out of his own skin at the howl of a wolf in the distance. With fear gripping his mind, he sprinted into the dark cave, careful to not disturb any imaginary hibernating ferocious beast inside, and sat down by the wall. He let the dry twigs tumble down to the ground, arranging them into a small pile with his foot. He let out a sad chuckle as he put his uninjured hand over the twigs, watching for the telltale signs of smoke and embers._

That feeling when you have to practice the magic opposite your natural element.

 _There were small sparks, and soon enough, the smouldering branches caught flame._

Heat.

 _He put his right hand over it, and sighed in relief at the small lifesaving warmth on his chilled fingers. He looked at the blistered skin on his left arm and winced._

Water source. Please, a water source.

 _While he warmed himself, he projected his soul around, his lips quivering in fear._

Water.

 _Even just a little bit? His heart pounded in his chest. There were no springs, rivers, creeks, or puddles nearby._

 _Another clap of thunder. He looked up, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips._

Rain.

 _He almost whooped in joy when he noticed the drizzle, only to be stopped by more howling and animalistic roaring. He scrambled back, towards the pitch black part of the cave, eyes wide. Wolves could sniff him out and kill him. Putting some of his weight on his left arm stung, and he bit his lip to stop himself from crying out._

I don't want to die. Those wolves will catch me and kill me, I have nowhere else to go.

 _The tiny fire was flickering in its place near the cave's mouth. The drizzle slowly became a rainstorm, and he held out his hand to the opening of the cave. Raindrops stopped falling, and slowly floated over towards his outstretched palm. Beads of water swirled around his burnt arm, and when they touched his arm, he let out a pained gasp. The cool water engulfed his arm, and then glowed an ethereal white. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut at the stinging sensation. The soothing healing water worked on the inflamed skin, seeping in the upset physical injury and dissolving impure flaming pain. The burn soon washed away into a dull ache, and he sighed. The water splashed to the ground when he let go of its essence._

 _He cautiously crawled back to the fire, and then glanced at his healed arm. No more blisters, but there were dark scars zigzagging on his skin, like lightning._

A constant reminder of my coming doom.

 _The wolves howled again, and he flinched, covering his face. After a long moment, his wide and frightened eyes looked out of the cave. The showers of rain were growing into torrents. The nearby plants and trees swayed in the wind. No predators with sharp teeth._

There's nowhere for me to go. No roof above, no walls around, no edible food, no one to help. All alone, forever, in unknown land. And I deserve it for meeting her.

 _He put his hands down after a while, and then folded his knees up and curled into a ball. The fire crackled while he hid his face on his knees and started to weep._

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for science.**_

"Why is your skin green? That's not normal!" The hoop girl asked out loud, drawing attention to the tall alchemist. All the nearby townsfolk glanced over at Mona, the same question in their minds.

Mona felt the awkward stares at her, and in particular, her skin color. The urge to chuck her bombs at everyone almost overtook her, and she bit her lip a little to regain a bit of control. She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes so hard that they would detach themselves from the sockets and roll on the floor. _Duh, being a_ real _alchemist and all that made skin green._ But she couldn't spit that out. She and Plague Knight still had some world domination to do in secret. That was much more important than winning the town's affection, anyway. _As if they would love alchemy and alchemists after the Alchemic Plague._

She knelt down to the small kid's height and put on a soft smile. "Great question. I had an accident when I was a little more than an infant. My guardians were never so attentive, and I fell into a vat of… bad stuff. I almost died. I lived, but I had to live with this. It sucks, I know."

The folk, upon hearing her lie, shrugged, and continued on with their daily routines of buying bread, eating bread, and baking bread. The child smiled at her innocently and hugged her.

"That's okay! Take care, Miss Mona!" And so she ran off with her playmate and started throwing her hoop around again. Mona stood back up, a tiny malicious grin on her face.

 _Children and village folk. So gullible._

She turned and walked to the ladder, slid down, and immediately headed to her game room. None of the bar regulars heeded her, and she sneered at them. When one day Plague Knight would rule the valley and the world, she will be right beside him, and they will fear her more, and follow her every beck and call.

 _Yes, fear me, world. Obey me, world!_

She closed the door and sat back down on her stool in her game room, her smile wide and gleeful. The world would fall to its knees to alchemy. Alchemy, the art of scientific magic, frowned upon for tending to fall towards the dark arts of sorcery and necromancy. Alchemy studied both, although trying to replicate necromancy always resulted in disaster. Once in her teenage years, she experimented with minty green liquid and a decayed corpse, and she would never attempt that again. Flesh appeared on the mummified body and when its eyes opened, it spoke of no such thing as a soul.

It was her first engagement with the dark arts, and her first murder. A mercy kill was probably more like it. And it was her start of independence. No family to keep her, for they pushed her out. No one would help a lost, wandering child, let alone a travelling girl. _Down with the patriarchy, too,_ she thought.

Sorcery was a little hard to replicate when it used supernatural force. Alchemy was purely physical. Watching the Magicist's cousin perform so many bizarre and amazing acts like turning the sun black for eleven minutes and allow water to dance along with his body's motion was incredibly exhilarating, yet it made her jealous. Alchemy was limited to make things go _boom._ He was still sane and reasonable a decade or so before. One day, the poor wizard did something worse than summoning the dead, and she never saw him in person again.

It was through this science that she was able to keep so much in a pocket dimension, once only exclusive to witches and wizards. It was why she was able to live with two faces. She was a liar. A very good one, too. If she wasn't, they would have discovered the Potionarium and have all of their bodies gibbeted on long spikes.

The sounds of the torque lifts being operated? Cover it up with 'test targets'. It was clearly an alchemical practice, but when one uses it for games and entertainment, it was not taboo at all. What the hell. People and their double standards made her hiss.

The sounds of Plague Knight testing out his new equipment and ending up fried for it? Cover it up by scattering broken glass on the floor and burning her own clothes while she was still in them.

Alchemy had limitations. Like her green skin, it could harm someone. But that wasn't a problem. Any kind of harm could be negated with using enough intelligence.

The problem was the stigma. And through ruling the land, it will no longer be discriminated. It will be a symbol of the strong and powerful.

She found herself cupping her cheek in her palm, closing her eyes, and sighing softly. Pink dusted her cheeks. All alone in the game room, waiting for _him_ to arrive from the entrance above. Maybe he brought along some flowers he didn't know and wanted to ask her what their names are, and then give them to her simply because 'it suited her'.

" _I-it's pretty… and, uh…" Plague Knight trembled as he extended his arm to her to give her the flowers, "they're nice and pretty, just like you- I mean, they suit you very well, I-I thought you'd like them."_

 _Maybe he'll love me when people obey me._

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for specter.**_

"Hello, master, would you like to see the iris flower in the gate?" The maidservant smiled up at the ghost, who, oddly, didn't snap at her. "It has two flowers now! I poured some evil water sprinkled with leaves and it didn't wilt! It has two flowers now!"

 _How redundant, and why would you water it with cursed water?_ "Alright, bring me to it."

"Oh wow, you aren't shouting at me now, sir! Has this day gone very well for you, master? If so I _wish_ you more good days!" Mitzi clapped her hands and beamed at him. "What an improvement, I thought you'd be grumpy at me forever, and that sucks because I can't leave this place anymore!"

 _Oh no_ , he thought, _it is the Phase Locket._

The small blue trinket hung around his neck, hidden below his cloak. The giver of warmth, the only real anchor to sanity and emotion, radiated its small uplifting love to where his heart once stayed. It kept his mind occupied by tranquility. Recently, he needed more ways to fight off disturbing thoughts in his mind. Images of the figures of his close family and friends in life shattering like stained glass before him plagued his sight. Voices of screams for his name and for help while his own voice laughs at them, relishing in their agony, haunted his hearing. Anger would simmer all of a sudden and someone would get harmed. While he could still hold his rationality, he would disappear for a long time in his quarters.

He started noticing it when the servant girl just stopped talking about stinging tentacle-fishes to him and couldn't say a coherent sentence.

Now she was dancing happily, her bubbliness returning as he almost too-kindly followed her.

 _Now she is talking about moray eels and squid-crabs and her friends I pushed down into the ground,_ he sarcastically commented to himself, _but at least I have started to calm down again._

In no time, they were by the closed gates of the Lich Yard, and Mitzi zoomed to the miraculous iris plant, its lush blooms opened and lovely.

"I still don't know what the iris flower means, but it's so beautiful!"

Specter Knight could feel a little fuzzy feeling in his chest. The plant still continued to flourish, even with death surrounding it. It looked quite out of place in the village of death, but its sight was breathtaking and calming to the soul.

"N… nest?"

The reaper perked up. _That name-_

"Uuugh… nest…?"

Both specters looked to the gate. Just standing before the rusty gates were three souls. Their untimely death showed on their melted and blistered skin, and their faces were horribly deformed by hanging flaps and blackened complexion. Patches of hair were still on their heads. They still had their knight's armor on, and one of them only had his leg armor on it.

"N-nest!" They cried in unison, almost happily, lumbering towards the Apparition. Mitzi yelped and ran behind Specter Knight to hide in his cloak-tails.

"Master, I know I'm dead, but they scare me…"

"Hush, servant." He whispered, and then faced the trio. He lifted his scythe up menacingly. "Who dares enter my domain?"

The three spirits appeared to consult one another. After a moment, the one with half of his armor pointed to itself and spoke.

"H-Harold." It pointed to the other two. "Buddy. Muffin."

 _Harold?_

He almost dropped his weapon.

 _Lawrence? Leofstan? Harold?_ _No! Stay outside! You cannot be here in this village of death! You.. are too precious to me!_

"... no, please stay outside." His voice was soft.

"... nest?"

"Stay out, I cannot have you here." He turned away. "I have too many souls. Please leave. Go somewhere safer."

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for sorrows.**_

"Meeting dismissed." Polar Knight banged his makeshift gavel on the table, and so everyone stood up and went their way outside.

The bounty hunter was the last to go out before Polar Knight. So many thoughts ran around in the knight's mind, making a chaotic mess of side comments and mental notes.

 _Was it necessary?_

Treasure Knight looked down in thought. The figurative blood on his hands stained his very person and soul, but the recent killings… felt empty and void of closure.

Vengeance, a dish best served cold, was supposed to make his heart become fulfilled. For decades, he had wanted nothing, nothing else but to grow large and powerful and rich and invulnerable. To have their pathetic heads in his hand, slowly closing to crush their miserable braincases and remove their faces from existence. To quarter their bodies, rip off their once muscled arms and legs, and feed them to his fishes. To let their blood wash away in the sea and dissolve away. To have their bones as the only traces of their lives, but they would never be found, for he would have thrown them in the depths of the ocean without remorse.

A merciless, brutish death for those that pushed him into a life of wrong.

But he had proceeded with only half the plan. He left their bloody and mutilated bodies back in the inn, for everyone else to gaze upon in abhorrence. The rusty smell of blood and the dreadful sight of mangled remains of once-whole humans would scar minds.

 _Was it all necessary?_

He thought of the little dog, who served as his last and only friend in his darkest hours. One that kept his mind sane and in check. Anthony would have been disappointed in him, if he had a sapient mind.

The puppy's spirit barked at him, wagging its tail and jumping up and down. Its small paws tapped on his armored foot.

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for secret.**_

Tinker Knight scribbled on the blue paper with a deep frown and a tongue out, following the diagonal folds of the paper. Every part enclosed in triangles had different scribbles and drawings, random symbols and numbers interrupting his chickenscratch. Doodles of cats and kittens littered the entire writing to throw off his potential enemies. Bows and arrows also spotted the blue paper, along with dotted lines of projectile motion. Extremely long formulae stood out in the tiny text, some of which are related to thermodynamics and the velocity of an unladen swallow.

"There you go." The engineer said out of habit, folding the paper randomly, then crumpling it into a very small ball, then unfolding it. He then stepped onto his workbench and pinned the large blueprint on his cork wall. He wiped the sweat off his brow and sighed in relief.

His encrypted battle plans were majestic. Segments of his plans were shuffled around in random order. Insignificant symbols and highlighted words served to delay the blueprint's decryption. It was like a puzzle, only that nothing would make sense to anyone else but him.

He smiled.

No one would ever know he was building the _Destroyer._

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for smoke.**_

"Keep at least ten sticks burning in different parts of the room." Mona instructed sternly. "Don't let the smoke of antimony get too close, or they'll be sicker. Don't let them too far, too. Will kill them."

"How is this as a distance?" Mole Knight pointed to the bedposts by the students' feet.

Mona put a hand under her chin and nodded after a moment. "Yep. Okay."

"So… when will they wake up?" The anthropologist nervously glanced at the sleeping teens, the blankets neatly pulled up to their chests. Their faces were clean and their clothes were neat and spotless. Mona smiled softly.

"Well, when you do it right, they'll recover." Mona stood up and turned to the door. "I still have some more antimony to deliver to the Flying Machine, Mole Knight. I'll be expecting payment in my game room, okay?"

"Yes, of course, Mona. Have the minions lead you to the surface, and they will escort you to the Flying Machine as well."

She simply nodded in response, and went out. She left the room, and the only adult inside fidgeted with his claws, impatient and anxious.

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for sober.**_

" _Monsieur."_ The Hover Meanie pointed to the lone person occupying the barstools. His beer stein jug, glazed white and blue and silver and embossed with eagles, was filled to the brim. Beer foam spilled over the jug and onto the polished table, and all he did was languidly wipe it away with his arm and palms. He drunkenly put his head on his arm.

" _Töte mich."_ Albrecht murmured on his clothed arm, his sleeve darkened by beer and tears.

"How about no." Propeller Knight snapped, drawing his friend's bloodshot eyes to him. He waved away the Hover Meanie, who then gestured at everyone else to occupy the empty chairs and tables near the German. The captain brushed the stray strands of his hair back to look closely at the large spot of dark red on the halberdier's left upper arm, trying to blink away the fog of drowsiness in his eyes. When he made sure his eyes were as awake as he wanted them to be, he stared at the other's left arm, but Albrecht had hid it away from him. His hazel eyes glared up to his friend's flushed face, sending him a mental message that he wasn't exactly happy. He straightened his back. "You don't drink too much beer."

"Ahh, _Bayern_. _Preu_ \- Prussia hates Bavaria." Albrecht managed to choke out between hiccups. "We didn't like Oktoberfest."

He squinted, wondering why he mentioned that, but when he flopped over to the table and let out a small "ach", he shook his head. "Why are you drinking? You… said you never go drunk."

He shot up and banged his fist on the table. "Vhat am I supposed to do? Cry myself to sleep?"

The Frenchman tapped on the table, staring at the vague reflection of his face on the shiny wood. "Still, drowning your sorrows is not going to be the best way."

"I am going to die here." He lowered his head onto his arms. "Never going back home. I miss my sisters."

Propeller Knight gasped. "What makes you-"

"I'm vondering if aczepting zhe honor of ' _Reichsritter_ ' vas a gut schoice, since, now, I ended up in a hell falley. I'm schtuck here, zhere is nozhing I can do." He lifted his head up and then gulped down the beer. Much of it spilled on his shirt and pants. " _Flüssiges Brot. Ja._ Vant some? _"_

" _Non._ "

"Good. More for me."

"Are you not even concerned for-"

Albrecht interrupted by putting his hands on either side of the Frenchman's face. His hazel eyes widened in shock as his friend pinched his cheeks _hard._

"You look like a girl vhen I'm zhis intoxicated." He plastered a stupid smile on his face.

"No, Albrecht, I am not going to cut my hair. It's nice this way. What are you thinking?"

"I practice." He murmured, then let go of his face. "Vhen I die, my schpirit vill go home and I vill… tell my sisters I love zhem all a lot. Neffer mind my brozhers, I'll just punch zheir arms and zhey vill know I did zhat."

Propeller Knight winced and massaged his cheeks. "I was expecting a different outcome to that, honestly. I considered punching you cold and dragging you to your quarters."

"Vhat different outcome? Punch? So fiolent. Ah, _fick_. I'm going to die. My spirit vill go home anyvay. I vant to practice vhat to say to my sisters and my mozher." He coughed and hacked, covering his mouth with his palm.

"I promise, _compagnon,_ you will not die here- _ami_? You're turning pale!"

The drunk warrior keeled over, leaning heavily on the table. He swatted away the Frenchman's hand, but couldn't hold him off for long. His lungs burned and twisted, and his breath was shallow and forced. He tried to stand when he felt warm liquid with metallic taste on the corners of his mouth. Albrecht tried to hide the blood, but alas, his superior could clearly see red between his fingers. He coughed, and he could hear the captain raise his voice. He didn't feel the rest of the room erupt in complete disarray. Some clambered outside to pilot a small ship to the Explodatorium for help. Others shuffled out to get water and medicine. His world was so dim and so red, shades of purple and green clouding his vision, and a dangerous feminine voice speaking incoherent things to him.

Shouts of his name, while pronounced incorrectly, were faint and soft to his ears. He snickered to himself. His name was still being mispronounced. The 'r' is not pronounced that way.

Tomorrow, he was going to punch him in the shoulder. It was funny. The woman's voice was loud in his head but still he could hear his friend say his name out loud. What a nice distraction from the terrible whispers.

 _ **.**_

 _ **S is for surgery.**_

The light-armored knight saluted and stood stiff in front of Roman, looking at the ground to not meet the Third Knight's gaze. "I am a runner from the western camp, Commander Three, and I have just started my duties."

"At ease, soldier. Runners need to rove the barrier lines to maintain it. Especially at this crucial time." Roman waved his hand, and the runner dropped his shoulders and started breathing in. He tilted his head in confusion when the runner did not suck in as much air as he could, but he was shining with sweat, and so he paid attention.

"Understood... sire."

"It's a full moon tonight. Enjoy the calm before the storm, runner."

The soldier's eyes flashed red briefly. "We are going to start soon."

He almost reeled back when his eyes turned red. _What the hell?_ "Yes. Get your rest before your next round to the eastern camp. I shall have Five give you the token. And continue assuring the line is safe, alright?" Roman clapped a hand over the knight's shoulder before walking away to the biggest tent in the camp. He eyed the runner with a suspicious glare. The soldier watched him with a smile, and then went towards the mess area. Above a fire hung a large pot of stew, and a silver knight stood by it to scoop up some of the stew into his bowl.

"Hey, you! Runner! Get some of the best stuff before everyone else comes and eats all the good chicken parts!" A man with a funny apron and whiting hair gestured to a table with empty and clean bowls on it.

 _It is so much like back then_ , the runner's mind thought, and he sprinted to the table to grab a bowl. With a wide grin he grabbed the small dipper and looked into the bubbling soup.

"Really hungry, huh? Well, fill yourself before the boys do. This be lovely stuff. Better than having to eat soft bread. Stale bread's the best bread."

"We have different opinions on bread, but I do need my energy for later." He nonchalantly unscrewed a vial secured on his wrist and then discreetly poured its black contents into the bowl as he got some of his chicken soup-stew. The other knight failed to notice, and went on to ramble.

"Here in this land, you need bread with a hard crust to keep the freshness in. But I do appreciate soft food that won't turn my teeth into powder. Say what, let me get some more of that."

The runner almost laughed at the knight's dim wits. "I am afraid I will have to leave soon, so I shall not waste time. I still have a mission."

"Well, that's a given, young one. Don't screw up your job. You only have one job and that's to walk around the barrier line."

"I know. I shall leave this bowl somewhere."

"Eh, you know the boys. They can carve out new ones from the trees, which is all around us anyway, so don't worry. See you around."

 _Oh yes, you will see me._ "Farewell."

The runner walked alone to a tent's post, sitting down on the ground against it and started to drink the bowl's contents. A small, terrified voice spoke out to him and him only.

 _Please don't kill me. Please, please. I don't want to die._

And he replied with a different voice, dangerous and alluring. _Take it as a gift that you will die free. As a reward for your service of allowing me to borrow your warm body, I will let you go._

 _No. I don't want it._

He stopped answering and finished the bowl. He sat for a time with barely hidden malice, the throat, chest, and stomach retching and constricting and the first voice screaming horribly. Arms became numb and it felt like the body was on fire. And yet he sat calmly, waiting for the end of it.

Plague Knight's alchemical pestilence, aged seventeen years. The poison that killed hundreds. And Plague Knight himself was happy to give it to him.

And so the living marionette ceased to move on its own, and the puppeteer happily took the strings. And next, the other puppets. Soldiers started to line up for dinner.

It was just a matter of minutes before he can reveal himself and claim ownership to the souls he reaped.

 _The apparition lounged on the cushioned chair for him and him only, playing contently with a piece of red supernatural cloth. It followed his sharp digit, swirling and twirling in the air._

" _Barriers." A military advisor scratched his balding head, and clenched his teeth. "They're trapping us here, keeping us from getting help from outside. They are trying to make us die here." He then pointed to the east of the keep, marked 'safe'. "I will not underestimate the insurgent leaders if I were you."_

 _King Knight fidgeted at his scepter and cape, restlessly tapping on his throne's armrest. Specter Knight could feel the usurper's heartbeat go faster, and he could almost hear his contained breaths of rage._

" _If they are fortifying the north, south, and west, and left the eastern village, it's a warning sign of an ambush. I think they are trying to make us stay here by making this eastern route obvious. There is a narrow pathway to the Lich Yard or the Explodatorium to the east, and I doubt we could ever make it out in one piece."_

" _You are telling me… we have to endure this siege with so little resources." King Knight's voice was low and quiet._

" _I am afraid they have already won-"_

 _He stood up in an instant, fists curled. "SILENCE, OR I WILL HAVE YOU MEET THE GUILLOTINE!"_

 _The group went stiff and trembled. When he was angry, they couldn't fight him. The absolute monarch is never trumped by any mortal on earth. But wit and strength, maybe a bit of luck, overwhelms even tyrants._

 _Specter Knight could think of a million ways to crush an army, and he chuckled softly to himself. After all, that was what he had been doing in his final years alive, bringing kingdoms down on their knees before him. It was by chance he died, anyway. Twirling the floating cloth in a circle, he brought his legs up to rest on the cushioned pillow at the end of the long chair, just to catch attention._

" _There might still be a good counter to it. A preemptive attack. Surgical incision, my liege."_

 _The monarch's expression mellowed, and he turned an ear to the elderly advisor. "Tell us what we can do."_

 _Specter Knight grabbed the wiggling piece of cloth and levitated upwards. "May I add more motives for this? For… asserting the Order of No Quarter's supremacy."_ Save for the fact you are utterly hopeless, your troops are outnumbered a thousand five hundred to one, _he didn't say._

 _King Knight nodded, and spoke again. "Let us make them hopeless! I want them to feel the desperation I feel!"_

" _That would be easy… well, Specter Knight is here, my liege."_

 _The reaper mocked a curtsy. "Do you know I happen to be perfect for the operation? Fear is my greatest weapon."_

" _That is obvious." King Knight nonchalantly shrugged. He walked down to the map-table as the phantom hovered over it, pointing his large blade at the drawn lines connecting the four camps. He made a slashing motion from north to south._

" _Surgical incision. I take the north." He chuckled at the thought of the brother and sister, separated, one of them bound by the wrists and ankles and muzzled, the other free and desperate. "I will cause chaos in the west. Feel free to retake your captured armies at the south and poke at the east, but do not wipe them out."_

 _The others gasped. "But what of the camp of the supreme commander of the enemy?"_

" _Your king wants him to feel as desperate as he you mortals are now? Dangle his greatest defeat in front of him."_

" _Act as my messenger for the meantime, Specter Knight." King Knight said, brandishing his scepter majestically. "I will see to it that we win this battle."_

Irma emerged from her tent, Anart's light wand holstered by her left hip in place of her saber. The bladed weapon was instead placed on her right side. The men saluted her as she walked towards the dinner place. Tied around her right wrist was the wiggling red cloth from the garlic bread ghost. She looked down on it stoically, watching it try to worm its way out of the thick knot. It was like a little pet. When it wasn't knotted, it would just hang in the air, barely moving. When she approached it, it would just fall onto her palm. How cute. Hopefully it would be a small toy to destress with in the midst of the horrors of war.

Her serene thoughts were stopped short by a desperate shout from a young knight. A western camp runner. He was panting, eyes wide in utter panic. "Commander Five! We have trouble!"

"What is it?" She answered immediately.

"The food appears to have been poisoned! My company promised to eat at the same time. Some of us are instantly dying from the food! Others are-"

"Call the healers this instant! Alert Three as well!"

"Yes, my lord!" He saluted a little too stiffly and ran off. She frowned at the dinner area, and looked for the cook. She knew his face. An elderly warrior who had seen battle for most of his life. A kind man to his men.

But he had died. He couldn't have poisoned his own food, either. Five balled her fist. Someone else had poisoned the stew. And it was someone inside the camp. A saboteur had entered her lair. She simmered with fury.

"Men! Be wary! A traitor is in our midst!"

Meanwhile, the possessed runner stopped pretending to run for help once he had gotten out of the lady commander's sight, and crept towards the camp's headquarters, where his target was. His red and gray assassin's knife, a form of his supernatural scythe, materialized in his hand in a soft glow of black and purple. He gripped it fondly, reminded of the times he quietly moved in to kill his target, quietly but messily. He pushed the cloth entrance and walked in.

Indeed, Three was inside, his blade drawn.

"I knew it when your eyes became red." He growled at the opponent. "Who are you?"

The runner opened his mouth a little in shock. "Ooh. How observant of you. Usually, before I reap, I make a small gesture of warning. And I thought no one will notice... until you did."

Roman gasped, before grabbing his light wand and pointed it at the possessed warm body. "I never thought it would be you! Specter Knight!"

At the end of the end dark colored stick, a small but extremely bright sphere appeared. It was shot towards the specter in bullet speed, leaving a trail of shimmering glitter in its wake. Specter Knight was able to move aside, and the orb zoomed before his physical puppet's face. He briefly looked in the light, and he saw himself in it, limping away before his murderer appeared from behind and pushed him to a tree. He saw his own face as he watched his attacker wrap his large hands around his neck and gently crush him. The sensation of cold fingers pressing into his skin and throat made him suck in air, and he felt control slipping.

 _Death comes._

His fighting knife reverted into its original form, a scythe, and he emerged from the body in strips of dark energy. Roman bravely glared up to the angered apparition's visor, steadfastly holding his effective weapon in his hands.

"Three. You will pay for attempting to kill me."

"All men die." Roman fired again, this time aiming to blind the specter, and dashed out of the tent. _I have to warn them,_ he thought _._

But the phantasm swatted the orb away with a flaming palm, and pursued his target.

" _I trust my sister." Siegfried answered in a simple tone. He beamed at the deposed king, who returned his gesture with a friendly pat to the shoulder._

" _You must be confident." The rightful monarch commented. "Are you not afraid?"_

 _One chuckled, putting down his glass of juice. "We grew up together. I know I'm getting old. She was a little baby while I had already come at marrying age. She was just this big," he moved his hands and showed the king an exaggerated small size, "and now she's… grown up."_

" _I can see you dote on her too much."_

" _Maybe. She was the only one who survived infancy after me."_

" _I see. You're not exactly peasantry, but in the lower nobility."_

" _Lowest nobility, perhaps!"_

 _The king chuckled. "And why are you actually comfortable and optimistic? That she won't be harmed?"_

" _I have to come to terms with the fact that she is already an adult after years of being an adult. I taught her how to fight, my lord, and I believe I taught her the most effective strategies of war. She seems to be better than me, and I am so, so proud of my little baby sister."_

" _You might have forgotten that, in war, you need to fight for your country. There is no room for loved ones."_

" _I know. That's why I'm confident in her strength. Worrying would do me no good."_

Five's voice has lowered, and her slight grimace at the sight of dead men who had writhed in pure pain and agony had been excruciating.

"Throw all the food away. Hunt for new game, for if one was poisoned, we must doubt all the others. Even the wine. Bury our dead now. They may not have died in battle, but we will have to honor their memory."

There was a long moment of silence. Forty-seven corpses on the ground and by the tables would haunt their memories. Their general refused to leave even as the knights began to approach their dead comrades. With heavy hearts, they began unfastening the straps holding their metal armor to their bodies. Some carried off their departed friends by putting their limp arms around their shoulders and heaving up.

It was different when the dead bodies grabbed at the sorrowful knights' hands when they touched their sheathed swords and daggers. Living dead then relentlessly attacked their former comrades, driving their knives into their unsuspecting victims, slicing off hands in the spur of the moment, and slashing their throats open. And with every new fallen knight was a new enemy, for as soon as their entire body touched the earth, their skin would become pale and their flesh would shrivel a little bit, and they would push themselves up to attack the living.

Five had never found herself hesitate so much before. Her hands were numb and the chaos of undead hacking at her men. _What was happening? What am I supposed to do?_ She pulled her light wand out in the nick of time to fire at a _victim_ about to drive its sword through a soldier's chest, and she bit her lip at the pathetic sight of a human body convulse violently and fall to the ground. The soldier dutifully stood up and grabbed his own claymore sword, before jumping into the fray and beheading the terrible undead.

"Don't let them get close to you!" Five barked. "Don't let anyone die!"

"Milady, behind you!

A corpse lunging towards the commander aimlessly brandished its weapon, and the tip of its blade made contact with the bottom of her eye down to her cheek, drawing blood. Hissing in pain, she pushed the tip of her wand to the body's jaw and willed it to fire.

She averted her gaze from the headless body, its neck blackened and smoking.

"Five." A soft voice called out, and she turned around.

It was Roman, his arms and body wounded with deep cuts. His armor was perforated, useless against the blade that harmed him greatly. He was barely able to stand, his body leaning against a tree trunk.

"Get away now. Save yourselves." Roman murmured, and his knees buckled. She approached him, carefully pulling his arm over her shoulder. Her right hand held her wand. She softened her voice, to reassure her fellow general. She breathed in, summoning her strength.

"We are. But we're taking everyone alive with-"

A pitch black hand suddenly grabbed her right wrist. Alarmed, she tried to pull away, but the reaper's grip was painful and strong. She turned her head, and went face to face with Specter Knight himself.

"This is mine." He wondered softly to himself, looking at the trembling cloth tied around her wrist.

She gasped, recalling the time the garlic bread ghost was running away, and he disappeared around a corner. She remembered the odd floating fabric, that when she grabbed it, it was all adorable and wiggly. _Could it be?_

"I'd have to drop you, Three." She whispered, and Roman weakly nodded. She grimaced, and twisted her arm and body to point her weapon to his face, Roman's body falling to the ground. "It does not matter. Die."

Specter Knight swiftly let go of her and hovered backward, avoiding another one of the fast-moving orbs of light. The fearful shock of her first attack did not leave him sooner, and his left shoulder suddenly felt a cold burning pain. His entire left arm trembled, and he dropped his scythe in reflex. He descended to the ground, falling on one knee. Biting his lip, he nursed his arm, and he looked away from it, and met her gaze.

Five stood before him, glowering down at him. "This is just retribution for what you have done tonight. One Order of No Quarter knight is now out of our way." She raised her wand and pointed it at his head, the end beginning to glow.

Fury filled his mind and soul, and so he dashed forward before she could fire, his good hand aiming to hold her throat. She tumbled backwards, the force of his push overpowering her. Specter Knight reversed their position, shoving his opponent down to the ground and tightening his hold.

"No. I will not depart tonight. _Not again._ And _you_ , I will take you and your men with me. I will capture you all and you will have no power under me."

 _Eyes were trailed on his back. Mole Knight could feel it._

 _Everywhere he dug, everywhere he walked, and even in the recess place he rested in, there was the paranoia of being watched. Every twitch of his body felt like it was being noted carefully, and whenever he was in the big room with the students, he could feel the shiver in his spine become stronger. It was a suspicious sensation._

 _The children were stirring, and his heart skipped a beat. The next thing Mole Knight knew, he was at one bedside. The student's eyes opened, and she turned her head and scanned her surroundings._

 _Mole Knight lightly poked her face. "You are all safe."_

" _Lost City?" She muttered under her breath, looking at her side to see her classmate, still stuck in sleep._

" _Yes. You have reached the Lost City. We found you."_

 _She let out a soft groan, and faced the knight. "Are they okay?"_

" _Yes. You're all fine. Your teacher, though… we couldn't find him."_

" _He's dead." The student closed her eyes and relaxed on her bed. "Enchantress killed him."_

 _He knit his brows together and breathed in sharply._ So, she was involved in it _, he internally growled. "I'll do something about it. Get well, alright?"_

 _She nodded, and pulled her blanket up her chin. He turned around to go outside, and close the door softly. A Mole Minion stood guard outside, and the knight-archaeologist sternly gave his order._

" _Let Specter Knight know we will take part in the war against the organized rebellion. I shall have my minions place bomb traps in pathways between the camps."_

 _And oddly, that was when the apprehensive sense of being watched was lifted._

"Rally your men! Inform the other camps! The northern camp has been attacked and obliterated!" The knight cried out.

Six could not believe his ears. "Obliterated? What happened?"

"We have reports of undead attacking the minor camps between us!"

"Undead?!" Six felt around his belt for the hanging light wand, and pulled it out. "Arthur, have someone inform Two! You, send out orders for the knights to stay in their posts. Never let our defenses break!"

" _King Knight is in need of your forces, Propeller Knight," Specter Knight thrust out the scroll containing the monarch's decree to the captain of the Order's air force, "and it is of urgency."_

"Bordel." _The Spin Controller snatched the paper from the apparition and scowled at the letter in it. It slightly unnerved the reaper, seeing a usually carefree man look so serious._

" _It is for the day-long campaign against the rising opposition against us."_

" _I am not willing to help King Knight. Distance and the safety of my crew are not things I will easily forget. Not to mention, what he did to me."_

" _Distance is not an issue. I am here for that. Safety is also unneeded, for I only need equi-"_

 _He snapped at him, his hand balled into a fist, ready to punch. "Typical of you to say, but I have_ living _crew members. I will_ never _risk their safety for something not involving us. We are not as numbered as everyone else is, so a war of attrition will not be considered. I will_ not _participate in conflict." His speech was stern and hard it almost seemed like someone else was talking._

" _It involves you, mortal! If King Knight falls, it becomes the start of our downfall. I was also going to mention sending only equipment, and not soldiers." Specter Knight floated around the Frenchman and looked down on the busy crewmen from the railing, some of them cleaning the floor, some scrubbing the dishes, others arranging their belongings. All droned about with smiles and chattering. "Think of them. If we fall, the Enchantress would lash out at_ us _, something I do not wish to happen anytime soon. Until the right time."_

 _Propeller Knight scoffed, and crossed his arms. "Rebelling against her, too?"_

" _How perceptive of you. It is a very quick observation."_

" _Never underestimate me."_

" _And you use 'too', there. Tell me, you are thinking of it as well."_

" _I have to bring them all home. I will never forgive myself if one dies here." His expression softened a little, and the apparition could see him relax and breathe deeper. "We all want to go home. I have had enough of this place."_

" _If you don't help out, what of them?"_

" _Don't try to guilt-trip me."_

" _Oh, trust me. I have something to protect as well." He idly palmed the locket hanging over his bosom. "You want to help them go back to France? I am afraid you will have to participate and play along, if you are as intelligent as you claim you are."_

" _I know, Specter Knight. I am incredibly worried for them. They are not pawns, they are my family."_

" _All of us have to do something against our heart's desire some days. Take it from a dead man who has died because of a series of life's cruelty and a false sliver of hope."_

 _Propeller Knight stole a glance at the sentimental specter, and briefly wondered what exactly happened to him. What a cynical statement to say of life._

" _And you have all the love and honor. I suggest you keep it and never let go of it until you, one day, die." He looked into the hazel eyes of his teammate. "Always remember, never let your emotion take too much hold on you."_

" _Typical of your manipulative and sneaky self." He commented with a mirthful laugh, and crossed his arms, the scroll dangling in his fingers. "I am willing to send out artillery instead of men, anyway. I have unused but maintained cannons in one of the cargo bays. Those can fire ammunition precisely at long ranges unseen before. I cannot send any of my ships there, however. It has to be manned by my engineers, and you know what I'm trying to do here. If what he says is true and the keep is surrounded by enemy forces, I'd not risk a ship getting shot down."_

" _That is enough help." He turned to leave out the exit. "It suffices. You do not have to risk anymore."_

" _What about you? You say you have something to protect, and I cannot even imagine you loving anyone."_

 _Specter Knight slightly cocked his head. "Yes. I do. I cannot let the enemy take over too soon. I cannot afford to let them win too soon." He looked down at the general area of the blue and gold trinket. "Lest I have no time for unfinished business, and I will be forever unable to forgive myself for all I have done."_

"By now, Specter Knight has taken control of the north and is attacking the west." King Knight mumbled to himself, peering through the telescope. His balcony faced east, and through the lens of his scope he could see no more movement in the northern camp. "Yes, I think he is on time."

"Shall we send our forces towards the south, now?" The general behind him, already dressed for battle, eagerly inquired, and King Knight pursed his lips. And then, when he put his telescope down, he nodded.

"Yes. Agreed. Send our most powerful forces. Wipe them out, and then retreat! Just as planned. We are winning." The pretended curled his fist in joy. "We are winning, and I can feel it!"

"What of our captured army?"

"Weed out the enemy, and execute all those loyal to their seven commanders."

The general saluted with zeal. "Yes, my lord!" He left the balcony in a brisk pace. King Knight stayed on his viewing balcony.

Minutes passed. The wind was getting cold, and storm clouds gathered in the moonlit sky. The reaper's power in the area was growing, and the Order of No Quarter could claim another victory.

The booming of cannons being fired from the keep's towers split the night's silence. Seconds went by, and King Knight watched as the incendiary cannonballs hit the southern camp from miles away. The distant glow of orange and yellow was satisfying, as it had always been for his eyes. Flames… so beautiful. The cannons stopped firing to reload, and afterwards, the southeast began to erupt in flames. The landmines were triggered.

 _Surely the noise of the cannons would rouse the east and west. They have been cut away from each other in surgical_ _precision._ King Knight sighed in relief. No one can challenge him in the throne of Pridemoor now.

And to the Tower in the north, a demoness was victorious.

 _ **Up next: T is for torture.**_

 _Je vous aime tous - I love you all_

 _Töte mich. - Kill me._

 _Reichsritter - Imperial Knight (here I was aiming to give it as an honorific title instead of a group of knights of the same name in the Holy Roman Empire's history. The Holy Roman Empire's Imperial Knights served directly under the Emperor.)_

 _Flüssiges Brot – literally liquid bread, but it's also figurative language for beer_

 _Compagnon - companion/friend_


	20. T is for tree

_To IndigoPuff: Yes, it was referencing Monty Python! And you are welcome, I initially started this just to make the joke in B-anana. And I agree, there tends to be an act of ignoring the darkest parts in this lighthearted game about a knight with a shovel. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing this :)_

 _To Guest with the short af review: ayy tyvm_

 _To Monkey999Boy: I'm wondering who's the real sadist here…_

 _To Saturdaylemon: A lot of mistakes were made. HAHA! And the French and German noises part is my personal favorite in S._

 _Specter of Torment is going to have its levels Megaman style and have us players choose. Specter Knight's face is also fully exposed in the trailer. He looks cute. Anyhow, I did say I'll be ignoring the canon in SpoT, but I can't help but reference to it! It's going to be amazing, guys. I already love it. Happy holiday season!_

 _Also, welcome our nice French translator, Lyxent! Now Propeller Knight and company get to say fancy French stuff!_

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for tree.**_

"I want this tree down."

Treasure Knight side-glanced at the tiny engineer, lifting his helmet up.

"You want me to do what now?" The bounty hunter's voice cracked a bit.

The welding mask seemed to glow. Tinker Knight put the back of his hands on his hips. "I want to cut this tree down."

The colossal hoarder stared up at the decorated pine tree, all sorts of shiny things hanging on the branches. A red sash was wrapped around it, the flickering colorful lights illuminating the town, and on the top the symbol of the holy boat. Free presents were under the tree's trimmed leaves, and the Bard was standing near it conducting his magical winter songs. Multiple blue Liquid Samurai played their respective instruments obediently, their pinprick eyes carefully watching the Bard's orange arms. The possible-yacht-god magically produced wrapped free stuff with a riff of his lute. Who didn't like free stuff? It was all shimmering. It was all so beautiful. The Bard successfully brought everyone together.

Propeller Knight was gleefully tearing off his present from the taco hat minstrel, destroying the box and pulling out a lovely plush rose. He spun around like a ballerina while hugging his new toy. His crew received kitchenware, paint and paintbrushes, a whole stack of all kinds of books in three languages, and assorted paper fans.

Plague Knight and Mona received so much beakers and flasks, and when Mona counted, it was the exact same amount of glassware Shovel Knight broke. Both alchemists raised an eye to each other, before cackling in mirth. Shovel Knight himself got an odd knitted sweater, blue shovel and green wreath designs on stripes. A note from the gods was stuck on it.

 _Thanks for 1.5 million copies!_

Shovel Knight shrugged away the cryptic note and watched Shield Knight pull out her toy shield from so many years before, worn with age, but she still loved it nonetheless. Shovel Knight stole a glance at Black Knight, who received a violin for his size. He watched his best friend hold the violin by the scroll and extend it to the side. As the black-clad knight rested his chin on the chin rest, his gaze flicked instinctively to Shovel Knight, who was barely stifling his giggling. Polar Knight picked the infuriated black shoveler up and hmphed.

Specter Knight hid in an unseen place within the tree, holding a small black stick for orchestral conductors to wave with. For some reason, his eyes started leaking tears and he wanted no one to see him in a pathetic vulnerable state.

Mole Knight got several warm quilts, and he gave it away to the departments staff he brought along. He personally liked the tiny yellow blanket he dug up from the mountain of blankets.

King Knight was hollering happily with his new crown, flinging his old crown away and putting on the more majestic one (with more fake diamonds on it) atop his helmet. He flounced about, showing off his magnificent new crown.

The Baz got new sparking rope. And this time it actually sparked when he whipped it. Glitter also scattered when he whirled it around. Phantom Striker hid his tiny present under his blue cape and endured having to breathe in sparkling dust. Mister Hat had the time of his life swimming in his pile of hats, laughing as he kissed each of his new hats. Reize got a little checkered handkerchief.

Everyone was happy.

"Why would you want the tree down?" Treasure Knight inquired again, to which the pissed engineer growled.

"I hate to see them all smile."

"Is it because you didn't get free stuff?"

" _Hnnnngggh."_

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for terror.**_

Tinker Knight winced when the French captain screeched yet again. Where did he get the energy to yell at people constantly? The engineer could not help but think of the lung power Propeller Knight must have after a life in the heavens-

"NOW TELL ME _'O_ WAS COOKING EEN ZE ZHIRD FLOOR KEETCHEN! YOU SET MY MAGNEEFEECENT SHIP ON _FIRE_ AND YOU WILL PAY FOR EET!"

Treasure Knight meekly held up his anchor arm. "I already paid for the damage and it was just a small part-"

"SHUT UP!"

The accent sounded a million times more terrifying than it usually did. His voice had always been full of life's joys, but now it seemed like it was coming from the deepest and darkest crevices on the earth. Tinker Knight deemed himself lucky, as well as Polar Knight and Plague Knight. Polar Knight simply was out of the question. Even when infuriated, the captain correctly reasoned that the Order's dad figure just doesn't fit the suspect role. Plague Knight had literally just walked in the ship when the fire broke out. Always late to the gathering. Poor introvert. Tinker Knight himself was out fixing one of the major fans keeping the airship airborne, and the captain himself had been watching him work. He was so nice and kind as he talked to him about his silly crew, but the engineer swore he could see a glint in his hazel eyes that there was something more in his mind than a friendly conversation. Almost as if he was paying close attention to the repairs. But, well, he had decided to marry his airship instead of anyone…

"Zhe people 'o were in zhe keetchen were everyone aside from zhe zhree I have spared." He spoke in his thick accent, breathing in deeply. "Now tell me 'o was cooking and set my ship on _fire_." He abruptly pointed a finger at a certain gold knight. "KING KNIGHT, WAS EET YOU?"

"Don't you dare raise your voice at the _king of Pridemoor!_ You are only a foreign nobleman and you have no power here!" King Knight stood up in defiance.

Fancy knight versus fancy knight.

A very bad idea if one of them happened to have the most terror-inspiring anger in the world. And a worse idea if said knight was furious beyond reason. And worst when said knight's omnipresent German subordinate handed him a skillet for the bashing.

Tinker Knight swore he saw Mole Knight fidget with his claws and Specter Knight glower at the monarch in intense hatred. Poor Plague Knight was having a mini-heart attack. His tiny green hands were shaking and sweating.

"King Knight, get down, damn it!" Tinker Knight whispered harshly, but the prideful knight stuck to his guns, even when the Frenchman was approaching ominously with a cooking pan.

The tiny engineer only noticed the height difference between the two fabulous men when Propeller Knight glared down. He stood straight and he kept his chin up, looking down at the shorter one with a slight frown. He clapped the skillet's circular pan on his hand. Tinker Knight swore he saw a burning soul behind those beautiful hazel eyes.

"What did you say?" The Frenchman softly spoke.

King Knight hurriedly sat back down, squeezing for some butt space between Specter Knight and Plague Knight. The phantom growled and inched away from the arsonist, muttering unintelligible curses about biscuits. And the Order of No Quarter's poor ears had to take in more of the airship captain's shrieking.

" _YOU ARE STANDING EEN FRENCH TERRITORY AND ONE OF YOU BURNED PART OF EET DOWN! I AM ZHE MASTER HERE!_ And _eef I find who ees responsible, I weell puneesh heem!"_ Propeller Knight angrily pointed to something to his right.

Tinker Knight stiffened. He glanced sideways to the left, and gulped down when he saw a giant turning fan. Everyone else gasped and trembled at the real threat from the French captain.

"Please spare our lives." Mole Knight begged meekly, almost kneeling in front of the captain. "Please don't kill us."

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for trauma.**_

Mole Knight entered the dim infirmary, his digging armor off of his large body. The underground clinic wasn't as hot as it was in the lowest excavation site as it was very close to the surface. Fresh air still flowed in the chamber. In his claws he clutched a large glass lamp shaped like a mole with shining tiny dots languidly bobbing and swaying in clear fluid. It glowed green and blue if it was shaken.

The students, still so young for the world despite being old enough to see war's horrors, were terrified of fire. The knight-archaeologist wondered if his handmade lamp made would work for them.

The floral fragrance of the medicinal antimony sticks wafted in the air. They still burned after three night straight, and he heard the sheets moving and shuffle.

"Hello, students, how are you?" He gently called out, holding the glass lamp up. "I want to show you something."

Mole Knight vigorously shook the mole-shaped lamp, and held it out. The young students watched it glow. Awe lit up on their scarred faces, and the knight entered to show them.

"I'm happy you enjoy my handiwork." Mole Knight smiled and set the glowing lamp on the middle of the room. "If it's dim, just move it a little."

"How did you make this, Mole Knight?"

"I went to the shore and harvested the bright glitter on the sand. Do you want your own?"

There was a gleeful and collective "yes". He wiped a tear off his face.

"I'll make you your little mole lamps, alright? Now, take your rest."

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for torture.**_

/*dungeons of Pridemoor Keep*/

Green, blue, and red fluids sloshed inside the bucket by the usurper's feet, multiple bodies of liquid men that lost the cohesiveness to be able to reform and yet still keeping themselves together. Dead Liquid Samurai, provided by the Enchantress, to force someone to scream and beg.

Ropes tied him to a cold and uncomfortable metal chair, needle-like spikes digging into his skin but not drawing blood. His swollen face, his black eye, and many deep cuts weren't fazing the commander, and he spat his bloody saliva on the golden feet of the pretender king.

"Now let me just tell you something, a secret in the Society." Three laughed bitterly. "It goes a little something like this… 'go to hell, _bastard'_."

King Knight wasted no time to swing the heavy crowbar towards Three's skull. "I do not like to be called 'bastard', you pathetic general." He grabbed his rusty knife, caked with the prisoner's blood, and slashed at his arm. The man hissed softly.

"Oh, makes me think who's really pathetic here." Roman growled through clenched teeth.

"I have the power here. You don't." King Knight scooped liquid from inside the bucket and splashed it on the commander's wounds.

Nothing happened for a short moment.

Fresh and warm blood came into contact with the lifeless beings. The liquid warriors, stirred by life in fluid, crept their way to the source of the life… and swam towards the deep laceration.

Then, burning agony.

/*Lich Yard*/

"You heartless cur." Seven growled when the reaper approached his cell. His chains clinked on the stone floor. He desperately wanted to claw the smug phantom's eyes off if he still had them, but the chains restrained his shaking hands and feet to the wall. All he could do was glare up at the phantom.

"My heart was eaten by the creatures of the earth a long time ago… Arthur. I've come here to tell you about Irma." Specter Knight inched close to the prisoner, and the latter bolted up, his fists balled. But the chains were too short and the punch was stopped by the tense metal links. Arthur shrieked, his heart pounding. His sights were all on the apparition, and he pulled at the chains holding his wrists and feet, half-hoping they would break somehow and thrash his dreadful warden.

"What are you doing to her?!" The tears suddenly rolled down his face, his voice cracking. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing of the sort you think of, Arthur. She is safe." He answered calmly.

"Liar! Do you think I will believe you? You say she's in the next cell, but I never hear her voice! Don't you dare!"

His chilly hand shot out to grip at the hysterical man's throat. He tightened his hold on his neck, a sadistic person taking over. "You would not like the worst death in the world, Arthur, for the sensation of being choked to death is most frightening." He chuckled darkly. "I know you have a fondness of the woman lying on her bed in the room to your right. I know everything about her. I know all about her, how she feels frustrated and alone every night, how much she loves her brother Siegfried, how much she fears being followed..."

"Don't… put Siegfried in… this." Arthur managed to choke out. His numbing hands grasped at the apparition's claws, but they only started to tighten more and puncture his skin.

"He is our greatest enemy at the moment, Arthur. Do you think I am petty and forgiving? If I have to take his little sister away, I will do it."

"Let… her go." His sight was beginning to be dotted in specks of white.

"As I said, she is safe. I have not harmed her in any way physically."

He sucked in air and whispered his next word. "Liar."

He let him go, and Seven fell to the floor, wheezing for air. "How boastful. What a show of pride. You did not even hit King Knight."

"What do you want?" He breathed out between coughs.

"All of what you know within the insurgency, dear Arthur. Answer my questions, and she goes. You will go as well, and I will personally see to it that you are together after death."

" _Son of a whore_!"

Specter Knight giggled bitterly. "So… you have decided in imprisoning yourselves for life… and the life after that." He waved his hand and hovered out of the room. "If Roman dies in Pridemoor, you shall be next, and if you die, she will awaken and will die as well."

"You snake!"

"Good night, Arthur."

He tuned out the anguished wails from the other prisoner and entered Five's cell. She was lying on her bed, tucked nicely under a comfortable blanket. Not a single bruise nor a single wound, except for the raw parts of her neck and throat. She was deep asleep, and he placed his glowing hand over her forehead, to see the permanent nightmare he caused.

 _She wept softly, embracing Arthur so tight and attempting to ward death away from him. Her coat was soaked with his blood. He weakly hugged back, resting his head on her shoulder._

" _Get away… just run. Don't let… anyone get inside… this wretched and cursed castle…" He moaned to her, holding her quaking hand and sighing quietly._

" _I'm not leaving you behind! Even if you're dead, I'll drag your bodies out and give you all a proper burial, and-"_

" _How will you... carry eleven bodies out of here? We're chased… by eight monsters prowling around the castle..."_

" _I'll find a way."_

" _You can't. They're too powerful… they're all around you." He brought his hand up to her face. "Run away… get to safety."_

" _I refuse!"_

" _Ssh. They'll… hear you."_

" _Is there a way for me to turn back time… to save all of you?"_

" _You'd have to live. Please… live for me."_

" _I can't lose the last person with me."_

" _You're not going to die."_

" _I'm afraid I am… so run away… before they get you."_

 _She breathed out, the heavy load on her heart crushing her soul. She brushed his hair away from his face and embraced him tightly just to ease his untimely death. He let out a small and sad laugh._

" _I really… liked that… so please, go away… save yourself for me."_

 _She combed her fingers through his hair. It would be hard to the last person alive with her. She gently put him down to the cold floor. "I… will find a way to get back if I get out alive. I promise it."_

 _Irma managed to tear her eyes away from her dying friend and sprint to the nearby castle doors. It was just around the corner, it was just guarded by the giant bearded man with fleece on his back and horns atop his head, armed with a large spiked mace that had Gil's blood and flesh on it._

 _She focused her thoughts on the exit, trying to forget the haunting deaths of the others. Crushed to death by a large white mace. Buried alive under rubble. Pushed off the highest tower. Vaporized by a well-aimed missile. Beheaded. Poisoned by a tempting feast. Hexed by an evil sorceress. Impaled with a blunt bar. Drowned in a pool with no escape._

 _Five bolted to the corridor that led into the entrance hallway, and she could get out from there. She ran as fast as she could, knowing that the monsters would not be able to follow her outside and she was safe._

 _The light of the sun flooded the hallway. Panting, she ran towards the light. Safety was-_

" _Where are you going?" A disembodied voice whispered. She did not stop running. The open doors were open wide, tempting her._

 _Threads of black swirled around just before the doors, a creature emerging from the black amorphous figure. It formed the tattered black robes of the ninth monster, the bone-white body under it covered almost completely in it. Its right hand clutched a large scythe, and she had no time to even think when the sharp blade was driven through her chest, piercing her heart. She let out a little pained yelp before her body went limp._

" _Eleven or one… eleven or one… twelve for the first. Eleven or one for the next times…" The voice in the dark whispered, before she woke up in her bed, the morning sunlight hurting her sleepy eyes._

Specter Knight hummed to himself, satisfied with the loop of time in her dreams, and removed his hand from her head. Her skin had a sheen of sweat, and she was breathing hurriedly. Her brows were furrowed and her teeth grinding together.

"Good night, Irma."

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for tease.**_

 _She had her arms crossed, and she was glowering at the tiny flower he had given her. Irma didn't like flowers. At least, not anymore._

" _Why are you so angry?" The older brother jokingly mocked a pout._

" _I'm not a child anymore, brother. I am most capable of doing things on my own." She huffed and frowned at him. "We have so much work to do. We both have no time for anything else. We have a_ country _to liberate."_

You've grown so serious. _He felt a verbal knife stab him right at the heart, but he bounced back with a big smile. "Am I not allowed to dote on my little sister?"_

" _I'm not little anymore."_

Yes. I know. You aren't anymore. _Siegfried snatched the flower in his sister's hand (he also stole a glance at the wiggling piece of supernatural cloth around her wrist and raised a brow) and put it on her long braided hair. A brief memory of him gleefully braiding her hair with pretty flowers he thought didn't have spiders anymore while she polished her knife flashed before his eyes. He sighed. At least having her complain to him that he should have checked for spiders before putting the things on her head was better than her not even saying anything close to excitement._

 _It was the time before Specter Knight started to terrorize the land, just before the Order of No Quarter was established._

 _And with his attacks her beautiful bright smile and knack for designing the prettiest winter coats and evening dresses faded away, replaced by cold and serious military wit and never-ending mountains of paperwork. Her needle and thread was replaced by sword and blood. While it was completely fine to see her know how to fight and rise on the ranks on her own without his intervention at all (except, of course, of the fact he taught her everything he knew after the reaper took everything away)… it was painful to see how war eroded her ability to feel any kind of happiness._

 _War was unforgiving. Cold. Empty. Vengeful. A double-edged sword. A disease of humanity._

 _He'd never forgive Specter Knight for taking away his sister's glimmering smile. The Order of No Quarter too. The entire Order was the reason she was having sleepless nights and no time for self-care._

" _Where did the sister I know go?"_

 _Irma glared at him, her brow raised. "I'm right here."_

 _He sighed inwardly._ She's gone. _"What are you up to today?"_

 _She looked down at her helmet with a relaxed but still emotionless expression and put it on. "I paid a visit to the eastern camp for you, brother. But my time is up. I have to go back to my area."_

" _We still have… five minutes left."_ Just a little more time with you _, he didn't add._ I'm so sick of seeing you so void of feelings. I love you so much.

 _She relented, and dropped her shoulders. "Okay."_

" _Wow, that was quick."_

" _Do you want me to leave?"_

 _Siegfried felt his heart shatter. Her humor has gotten so jaded, too. What the fuck._

" _No, no, come here. We're sitting on the softest grass on this uncultivated tract of crap so let's sit the hell out of it."_

 _The corners of her mouth tugged, and she snorted for less than a second._ There _, he thought._ A smile. _She sat back down, this time right beside him._

" _Can't we spend the rest of the day together as brother and sister?" He half-wished, half-requested, and she reverted to her stoic face again._

" _Well… I think it would not be so bad."_

 _He wrapped his arms around his armored sister, hugging her tight. Irma herself gasped in surprise. "Brother. You're too close to me."_

" _Am I not allowed to hug my baby sister?"_

" _Please. We're adults."_

" _But I miss the times when we were so young."_

 _The time she and her awkward blond boy friend were being too dramatic and they were crying because she accidentally fell on him and he was 'flat' and he charged into the playground with a magic sword, looking for bandits that dared hurt his baby sister and her friend. The time she was having difficulty carrying a claymore and preferred a light saber and cutlass instead. The time she was hit by a cannonball's debris and he risked his life to pull her out of the battle. The time when she was showing him admittedly crappy drawings of two stick figures, one big and carrying a big as fuck sword and the other small and holding a small toy knife._

" _I miss the times when things are peaceful." He admitted, wiping away the single tear that threatened to shatter his image of invincibility._

" _Me too." She replied softly, pushing her big brother off her as gently as she could. "I think we should work on getting back that peace."_

" _But do you think things will be the same as before?"_

" _Don't be naive. You know that after war, the order that comes is different than the order preceding it."_

" _True. But don't forget I still love seeing you draw."_

" _I might get back to it someday. But for now, I would have to get the state of peace back. Why don't you do the bitter work, like me?"_

Oh. So she's… just shouldering the hard stuff.

" _It might help. You're One. You're the head of it all. If you were just like me I think we might have taken down Polar Knight by today. Tomorrow, we could have just easily coerced Propeller Knight. He is very easy to take down. And then, the Enchantress. With our numbers and magic-"_

" _Now hold you horses, are you planning to murder me and take over the revolts? Because even if you're my sister, I'm not really willing to give it up." He laughed mirthfully._

" _No, I was only stating fact."_

Ouch. _He sulked quietly on his spot. "Get plenty of rest and charge your magic. You will need those. I order you to get plenty of sleep before the invasion starts."_

" _As One, or as Siegfried?"_

 _He looked up at her. Her eyes were soft in their gaze, but her statement challenged him. He almost broke down. She won't be taking orders from Siegfried anymore, for sure._

" _As One. I_ order _you to sleep tonight."_

" _You're just using your position to basically put me to bed."_

Wow, she can read minds. Holy ship. I did not teach her this. Did Anart give her telepathy or something? Because by gods that is both useful and terrifying.

 _Irma chuckled softly again. "I see your point. I've been feeling sick for the past year. I can't eat without the lump in my throat. But you taught me how to walk over needles, so I'll be fine."_

" _You can't eat, too? I_ order _you to eat some healthy food! Get the Gastronomer! He's in the village square-"_

" _Of course, my lord. Or big brother. Whatever."_

" _Irma, I beg you. Don't…"_

" _Don't what?"_

 _He bit his lip._ Don't stop smiling. _"Don't stress yourself out. I want everyone's minds healthy for our advances. This will all take some more time."_

" _You mean years. I'm ready to take on it."_

 _He sighed._ But you're so young and full of life, I'd really want you to be happy, or get married, I'll dress up in a fluffy pink dress if you want and I'll spew rainbows out of my hands, I'll give you the world if you want. You're the only family left to me. _But he said none of those things aching his heart._

" _I'm all grown up. I'm a knight now. I can plan good strategies and take over so much territory."_

" _I know. You've become so competent. Possibly more than I will ever be. I just want you to… be ready for the next steps."_

" _I'm excited to fight the Enchantress at the moment."_

" _Let's… not be too hasty."_

 _She smiled mischievously. "I'm just excited."_

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for torment.**_

He'll never forgive Specter Knight. Forever and ever. Even if he turns out to be a close friend of his, he will strike him down. He had taken away his sister's smile.

Siegfried's heart pounded so hard in his chest, fighting back tears and inhaling short breaths. His hands were shaking. It was so hot. So fucking hot. And still he felt so cold. So fucking cold.

The report sitting in front of him was full of bad news. Undead plaguing north and west. Survivors numbering only two hundred twenty out of the combined sixteen thousand troops of the north and west. One hundred sixty-seven, mortally wounded. The remaining fifty-three, still fit for battle. South's troops diminished from eleven thousand to a meager two thousand ready for deployment. Some of the victims, still alive, but missing at least one leg. Some dead, vaporized by landmines. Some dead, reanimated. Some injured men died in anguish. Many names were ticked off as missing.

A drastic loss.

The rebellion had lost its morale and invincibility.

He clenched his fist, his nails digging into skin and drawing blood. He couldn't stop his tears.

The north was literally obliterated. The cannon fire from the Keep had destroyed too much for anything to salvage. Soldiers that had once been stationed there were just mindless lackeys for the specter bastard. The west soldiers had responded but they had all gone from the face of the earth. Two's army had retreated and started to lick its wounds.

The east… left intact.

That wasn't it.

He choked back a pathetic wail, the names of important people crossed off.

 _Three. Roman._ Reported to have been heavily wounded. Presumably captured. Most likely dead.

 _Six. Gil._ Driven to a trap by Specter Knight and executed by decapitation.

 _Seven. Arthur._ Captured by King Knight while he led his surviving soldiers to the east around the booby trapped area. Some soldiers were able to escape and tell the west camp's story. And also the cheesy names King Knight named the commanders. Creative, but really damn cheesy...

He felt a pang of terror and fury when the most important name in his life was also there.

 _Five. Irma_. Reported to have been wrung by the neck after landing successful hits on Specter Knight. Presumably captured, but most likely dead.

Siegfried could imagine the dreadful reaper's claws around her neck, choking her and squeezing the life out of her. What other horrors could he do to her? Had he taken her soul? Did he know they were brother and sister? He pulled at his short dirty blond hair, pitifully crying as quietly as he could. His little sister, maybe dead and forced to serve the enemy, or alive and subjected to torture.

 _So appropriate for a big brother that once entered a playground with a sword and looking for outlaws that dare harm children. I failed as One and as Siegfried._

 _Specter Knight took my sister away!_

"Siegfried, I'll take over." Two's soft voice snapped him back to reality. Her hand had been on his shoulder. "I learned of Five-"

"I want you to take over the organization for the meantime." He growled, and stood up. His chair toppled backward.

"What-"

"In this state… I lost my sister. I can't function recklessly. Accept it now, or I'll change my mind and cause our own downfall!"

He could see Two's hesitation fade away from her face and she relented. "I accept the duties."

Siegfried took off his suddenly heavy mantle and dropped it on his chair. "Until I get my wits back."

"You need to take a break… I'll arrange for your leave." Two's tone was barely toeing the line of command and request.

"I appreciate it."

"Don't be so reckless, alright? I… I'll get Irma, Roman, and Arthur back."

He angrily wiped away a tear and sniffed. "I wish they'd come back."

"Let's work on it."

"I'll never forgive the Order of No Quarter for this."

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for treatment.**_

The unconscious halberdier coughed in his sleep, and Propeller Knight wiped off the blood leaking from his friend's lips.

"How is he, _mademoiselle_?" The airship's captain shyly asked, twiddling his thumbs. Mona waved her antimony stick around, the aromatic smoke diffusing in the air. The odor of liquor was rapidly going away, overwhelmed by the sweet smell.

"When did this cough first start?" She kept her aloof expression on, trying not to gaze at his pretty face.

"Uhh, well, I think it started a few weeks ago, after we attended an Order meeting. The Enchantress arrived and suddenly he was coughing a little harder than usual…" He trailed off to silence, idly fumbling with his hands and the bloody tissue before speaking up again. "He had been coughing before, but we thought it was an allergy to all the flowers we both bought. I made a joke that flowers make Germans so constipated and he was just laughing it off… but I don't know if that was made in good taste in hindsight…"

"Oh, don't really worry-"

"What if I told him that he might run out of the fuel in his back and then he suddenly actually loses it one day and he falls to his death?"

"Hey. Don't be so paranoid over this. It's alright. None of it is your fault." Mona let herself smile a little to calm the panicked captain.

"We insult each other at other times, and can be weirdly affectionate, so what if he actually catches the flu after I tell him to get a cold?"

"Hey. Hold it. He'll be fine, alright? Antimony," she pointed to the stick in her hand, "of this grade is able to help the body repair itself. It's medicinal in alchemy." Mona flicked her wrist and an entire sack of antimony sticks appeared by her feet in a puff of green smoke.

"Alright…" He breathed in deeply.

"Don't keep the sticks too close to his face, don't even think of fanning the fumes to his face. Medicine doesn't work that way." She sternly lectured. "Don't let it go too far, he might not even get the correct dosage."

"How far should I put it?" He asked, gesturing at Albrecht.

She tapped a finger on her chin. "By the post there." She pointed at the bedpost by the patient's feet. "That works. And don't panic when you're giving him treatment, alright?"

"I might just leave this job to the other Hoverhafts… I might not have sufficient time or even sufficient mental stability..."

"If it makes you feel better, then alright." She stood up and smoothed her skirt. "I must leave. If you need any help, contact me through our mail minions, alright?"

Propeller Knight nodded obediently. She smiled at him to reassure, before disappearing in a cloud of dark blue smoke. The captain looked back at his subordinate's face, his brows knit together.

 _Why didn't you tell me it's serious?_

He let his shoulders drop. He would have to ask the other crew members about his illness. _If they knew about it, I am going to feel disappointed and hurt. Does he even trust me after what happened in the first meeting in the Tower?_

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for test.**_

Plague Knight dropped a rainbow-colored feather of a rare bird only found in a specific kind of tree made of silver bark. That thing was hard to get. Said bird sang its song, and if anyone heard it it would lull then to sleep. And the odd bird would shit magical crap on the sleeping person's head and petrify them. Luckily nitroglycerin-cluster bombs were louder than said birdsong…

He shrugged when the green liquid started to simmer as the magic in it mixed, and then jumped down the ladder.

"Plaguey, did you blow up the tree?" Mona's tired eyes still retained the usual mad glee when there was science to be done, but three sleepless nights just cannot be masked behind a euphoric smile.

"I… did?" He tilted his head. "Why?"

"Well, I really wanted to see how it looked like…" She trailed off to silence and sighed. Her bluish hair veiled the light pink that dusted her cheeks.

"It was really ugly. It didn't really have leaves. I bet that tree is made of stone. The birds you told of have poop that turn stuff into stone."

"I still want to see it."

The little bird man twiddled his fingers. "I'm sorry I blew it up."

"Did you have to blow up the bird, too?"

"... yes."

"Plague Knight. That is a rare bird."

He sank in his spot.

"I'm pretty sure those guys are immortal anyway. So! We seem to be close to getting the Serum Supernus!" She lit up again.

"Yeah! Hee hee! I'm excited!"

"And then we just need nine strong essences. And then it's complete! You'll rule the world!"

"I… don't really want the world-"

"What do you _mean_ you don't want it? Make the world obey us alchemists!"

"Hey, you're probably getting mad over the lack of sleep." Plague Knight didn't really want to point out the dark circles under her eyes. "I think you need some rest. Get to sleep."

She banged her fist on the table. "But we're so close! When we get the perfect mixture that we need, we really just have to insert the stabilized essences into the liquid, brew it, put it through the decanter-"

"I still haven't raided the Lich Yard for ghost pee…"

" _What?!_ That is one of our vital catalysts! _"_

"And that's why you should get some rest." His poor heart was about to explode with all the pumping it was doing. "Mona. I'm going to drink that. But you said exactly three years, two months and five days ago that we should be patient."

She groaned.

"I promise that tomorrow, when you wake up, we'll do all the testing! Hee hee!"

"Well, alright then, Plaguey. Thanks for letting me sleep."

 _ **.**_

 _ **T is for tinker.**_

Tinker Knight looked up at the confusing encrypted blueprint, tacked on the board firmly, his brows knit in angry thoughts. Whenever he looked down from atop his tower he could still see the messy heap of useless machines he had carefully designed before a little bit to the mountain's base. Those machines were thrown away in fear. The townspeople were acting on their emotions, and so they couldn't be blamed.

Who is to blame?

 _Her._

 _Enough is enough._

The engineer hopped off his stool and dashed out of his workshop. A Cogslotter and a Gear Wizzem were chatting by with ice-cold drinks in their hands. Tinker Knight bellowed as loud as he could to catch their attention. The poor Cogslotter spilled his drink on his apron, boots,and part of his Wizzen friend's left shoe in surprise.

"You two! Call them all right now! We are to build a huge machine before midwinter! So we all better start with doing this!"

 _._

 _ **T is for treason.**_

King Knight sat alone in his throneroom, reading his manual, deeply engrossed in it.

" _Chapter Twenty-Seven. How to maintain status."_

His eyes quickly scanned over the next paragraph.

" _The masses are truly the ones with power. They represent the collective entity that determine a nation's survival. Their sentiments are the most important in the field of politics."_

The usurper shrugged. _I guess that is true… but where do I get in?_

His fingers drifted down the page.

" _Turn their loyalty for you, and they will remain steadfast in their faith in you. Cause them to turn their loyalties against each other, it will result in bloody conflict. Turn their loyalty against you, they will take over you. Your absolute power means nothing compared to the anger of the nation."_

"Okay…?" He raised a brow.

" _Even if you are a totalitarian ruler, the dissatisfaction of the collective nation will always prevail over social hierarchy. Humanity survives by getting what they wish. All beings live to survive. Do what pleases your subjects. If you do not, defeat looms over you."_

The usurper blinked, his thoughts briefly going back to his prisoners of war.

 _What does it take to rule? Why are they fighting me?_

/**/

Mole Knight stood before the terrible mural of the giant demoness, the unsightly drawings of innocent people running away, the armed knights protecting those who had been fleeing with their lives, and of eight monsters chasing after. His infuriated glare was on the image of the Enchantress-figure, thinking of the running shapes as the helpless students caught in a trap that shouldn't have been in.

He looked down at the pit where crushed and mutilated bones had once been, deliberating in his mind. He then idly moved his claws towards the mural, hissing through his teeth and his arm trembling. Mole Knight almost screamed in his bubbling rage.

 _No mercy for those who harm those who are like me._

/**/

The flying crew chattered and laughed as they flew up to pin the decorations to the walls of the grand hall. Tables were assembled and gold covers and blue runners were draped expertly over them. Glazed vases with green floral designs were placed carefully on top of the tables, and then filled with fragrant tulips. Streamers of white were tied to the ceiling beams. Propeller Knight watched his crew with a smile on his face, and tried to not think of the party.

The anniversary of the Order of No Quarter's founding was going to be held in the Flying Machine.

 _How stupid_ , he thought to himself. _To hold the anniversary celebration in a place where the Enchantress had her sights on all of the time? What's there to celebrate for? Another year of inciting terror upon innocent people? Needless massacres? Another year of living in fear of_ her _sudden anger, and she might start to kill my subordinates? The captain holds responsibility over his ship's crew!_

He almost chuckled sourly to himself. His heart ached in his chest.

 _Responsabilité. Pour échapper à celle-ci, je suis devenu ce que je suis aujourd'hui; mais je me battrai tout de même pour ceux que j'aime._

 _Responsibility. I became who I am now to run away from exactly that. But still, I will fight for those I love._

/**/

"Do you need anything, Polar Knight?" Her violet eyes looked down from above down to the old knight standing on the ground.

"I need to talk to Shield Knight." He firmly stated, wishing that it would work like the one time _she_ managed to break out.

" _Help me." Her soft voice called out weakly, and the Stalwart's heart was crushed. The voice of a helpless girl… the voice of his little daughter…_

" _I will help you get out." He replied with a confident smile. "I will."_

 _There was a brief moment of silence before the witch spoke again, as if the unified entity forgot all of what happened a moment ago._

" _Shield Knight?"_

"She is dead, Polar Knight. If you truly want to talk to her, consult Specter Knight. He may be willing to bring up her ghost."

He clenched his teeth and his hand balled into a fist before he begrudgingly exited. Shield Knight… wasn't emerging at all.

Oh how much he yearned to hear her true voice again, even just for one last time in his life.

 _I will get my daughter back. Whatever it takes. I want my daughter back._

/**/

The bounty hunter's eyes opened. He stirred, standing up from the corner in his Iron Whale. He had been sitting as he slept. He stretched his sore back and shoulders. His dream of a memory… was peculiar.

 _The little rascal laughed for the first time in weeks. The tiny puppy licked his face over and over again, the crooked tail wagging happily as the dog panted and licked the boy. He stroked its dark fur and hugged his new friend. The puppy was a stray like him. Both left in the muddy and dirty streets to rot._

" _You really are so fond of me." He smiled and pet the puppy's back and neck. He was answered with a cute little bark and more cuddling. "So cute... I'm naming you Anthony!"_

Treasure Knight sighed as he scooped a handful of gold pieces in his hand.

 _What is the greatest treasure in the world?_

/**/

"Plaguey, look at this!"

The bird alchemist almost jumped out of his skin when Mona called him. Her tone was so excited and jubilant that he sprinted towards the direction of her Dynamo Decanter. She was almost jumping up and down, her research journal in her hand. The notebook was opened to a specific page in which pictures and notes about the stages for the development of the Serum Supernus was scrawled on.

"Yes, M-mona?" He stuttered at her face. A bright gleaming smile.

"Eureka, Plague Knight! Eureka!"

She pointed at the glowing green liquid. His bird mask almost dropped.

"The Ultimate Potion is almost ready! We did it!"

"We only need nine strong essences!" She closed her eyes and grinned so widely. "We've come through so far together!"

Plague Knight twiddled his fingers. "Yes, Mona. We did it together…"

 _I only want to be with the person I love with all my heart._

/**/

"That's so huge." The Cogslotter looked up at the titanic machine with awe. "I think it's the biggest we have made in all our lives."

"It is not the greatest, but it has so much firepower." Tinker Knight couldn't hide his excited smile. The hundreds of hours of sweat, tears, and a little blood was all worth the beautiful giant. He wiped his face with a cool towel before marvelling at his newest creation.

A soon-to-be reinforced cockpit that as for now was just an exposed chair with switches, buttons, levers, and target screens. The missile launchers were wired to his screens. The tank's rolling caterpillar tracks could help it move on most terrain, and its intricate system of cogs and wires enabled it the same self-sustaining generator of power in the entire Clockwork Tower that would let it function for a whole month turned on. The incendiary chemicals inside were carefully measured and tested according to destructive power, and it was als armed with four bombs capable of levelling castles.

Tinker Knight dubbed it _The Destroyer._

 _To liberty and truth._

/**/

Specter Knight let the loving memories in his Phase Locket stream from his palm, up his arm, and towards his heart. The gentle warmth of the good memories of his life spread throughout his soul, calming his conflicting thoughts of murder and mercy.

He closed the locket and closed his eyes. The moaning souls of his victims echoed in the ruins of the village he had taken over so many years ago.

 _Do I still deserve redemption?_

 _ **Up next: U is for undead.**_


	21. U is for undercover

_To Monkey999Boy: Guilt trip to hell, yes. But there's still some mercy for them. There's mercy for everyone. But how will it play out for them?_

 _To SaturdayLemon: Ah, the tears must be wiped away. But not until more tears and blood are shed._

 _Note: All the arcs are now listed in a tumblr page I have. It's over at Lkcsi dot tumblr dot com slash s dash hovel dash k dash night dash arcs_ _ **.**_ _Ffnet hates links._

 _ **U is for urine.**_

The Tower of Fate had crumbled.

The Enchantress had fallen. However, she wasn't squished to bloody paste on the wall. Well. Turns out his almost-murderer was a possessed legendary knight.

The Order of No Quarter had revealed themselves to be truly peaceful, just coerced into servitude.

Things were put back where they should have been.

Of course, a trapped sorcerer that spent too many years living on his own had some _lovely_ ideas about his new freedom. No more _whooshing_ out of the invisible wall that _the witch_ erected, and no more having to talk to stupid bird people just to send some messages. Freedom tasted nice, especially when sprinkled with salt and pepper. Anart beamed inwardly. There were so much things to do… and the first in his _list of things to do when the Enchantress has gone off the face of the earth (hopefully smashed)_ was to fight Plague Knight in an honorable duel.

"Plague Knight! Fight me!" Anart flapped his cape and pointed at Plague Knight. The latter stared at the sorcerer with big empty eyeholes.

"He's gone crazy." Mona shook her head, and then glanced to the blonde woman with them. "Magicist? Ever want to make a potion to cure his loose screws? He's your relative, you know. You do have a responsibility."

"Sanity really isn't our forte, you know." The Magicist casually replied.

"Well, what do you want to fight about, hee? Chess? I'm up for chess." Plague Knight nervously laughed.

"No, not chess. I hate chess. It's so hard to win in chess. A fight between sorcery and alchemy!" Anart closed his eyes, a malicious grin on his face. His right hand glowed green as an orb of magic manifested over his palm.

"Hee, your power comes from liquids, and I'm about to exploit that!" Plague Knight mocked. He snapped a finger, and suddenly, bombs materialized all around the two, oozing odorous gas.

"What's that awful smell? Don't tell me you want to fling poop at me? Argh! I'd like my coat to be unstained by animal droppings!"

"What?! I'm dehydrating the place! Dehydration bombs!" Plague Knight let out his _evil_ laugh as grass and earth and even air dried up.

Anart gasped dramatically. "N-no!"

"Hee hee, wizard! Alchemy trumps all!"

"But I haven't activated my trump card yet!" Anart laughed out loud before doing _something_ , closing his eyes,and slightly shaking. Then, when satisfied, his eyes glowed bright green before summoning orbs of magic over his palms.

"You're supposed to be powerless!" Plague Knight gasped as he looked down at Anart's soaked pants.

"Aha, but that is where you are wrong! Urine qualifies as a liquid!"

Plague Knight's beak dropped to the floor. "Eww. Not fighting you. Ewwwww."

"No! Fight me! _Please! It's been in my bucket list for thirteen years! Please come back!"_

The little alchemist put his hands up before his chest and backed away slowly to hide behind Mona. "Nope. I'm getting out of here, hee. _Eugh_. He pissed in his pants, Mona."

Mona pat his head. "Hypocrite, you get your waist deep in maggots most of the time."

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for undead.**_

The apparition hovered over Five, trying to tune out the small whimpers from the adjacent room. She wasn't moving at all. Her frail body stayed under the sheets, her mind unable to wake from a permanent nightmare.

He put the porcelain vase full of wilting violets on the night-table carefully, as if being quiet to not wake a sleeping human. His hand accidentally brushed against a blue petal, and he looked at the rapidly withering flower. Its brilliant blue flower withered away to a brown, lifeless stalk. In seconds, it was reduced to a dry husk of its former loveliness. Specter Knight stared at the dead flower and pursed his lips.

He floated over to Five, his hand stretched out and glowing. Her forehead was too cold… and she wasn't moving even slightly...

" _We can't go into that castle, brother…" Irma weakly croaked out. Siegfried raised a thick brow at her and chuckled. His hand flew over to her forehead and neck. She bit back her tears… the horrible ways in which they all died..._

" _Are you sick, Five? You can still go back. No worries. This is just an investigation on what that mysterious castle is, and as the First Knight, I do need to witness for myself."_

" _I want all of us to retreat."_

" _We can't really. It's been creeping with shadow creatures that have been terrorizing the towns near here."_

" _I have a bad feeling about this, brother. Please listen to me. We have the sorcerer, Anart."_

 _One looked downwards. "Well, to be honest, little sis, I have the same crappy feeling. But we got to do what we have to do. Anart isn't exactly reliable, is he?"_

" _I know, but we might be better off with him doing the work."_

" _Five." He shushed, his tone stern. "If you need rest, I'll let you. It's all stressing you out, you know."_

" _No, please listen to me. We're all going to die there."_

He took his hand off her and gazed at the vase of drooping flowers. The tiny decoration brightened up the dusty and dim room, but it wouldn't be long until they wilt and die.

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for united.**_

Siegfried wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, in the hopes that when he opens them, his sister would be in front of him about to flick at his nose to rouse him from bed. That it was just a nightmare gone too bad and too long.

He closed his eyes, and hoped. He silently prayed.

He opened his eyes.

His gaze was on the sand map, with figures of their forces and the Order of No Quarter. He was not in bed, with his sister sitting beside him and about to pour water on his face. Irma was not there to poke at him to wake him up for a long day. She was not there to jokingly berate him for sleeping in while there was a war going. He shifted in his seat to try and focus on Cecille's plans. She was the _de jure_ First Knight now. Siegfried became Two. She is his superior now.

"... here, we must reassert our power by concentrating on the village between the Iron Whale and the Explodatorium. And if we maintain that, we will show the Order of No Quarter that we do not back down. Until our obliteration, we will fight until the end!" She announced, and the other leaders, both surviving and new, clapped.

Siegfried couldn't smile. Cecille's voice sounded a little bit like his sister's. She showed as much zeal as she once did.

 _He took my sister away from me._ _And it's my fault she is gone._

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for undercover.**_

"Oh, hello, are you a weary traveller?" A bird person asked, his head cocked to the side.

Treasure Knight turned to the bird man. He was dressed not in his gold and blue armor, but in a large embroidered green shirt and simple red pants with his sack of gold disguised as dirty stones and a few belongings slung over his shoulder.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

The bounty hunter stared blankly into beady eyes before he remembered. He was not dressed as himself. He blinked before he could form a response. "I am a weary..."

The bird person snickered. "Have you been so alone that you haven't been able to speak well? And correctly?"

Treasure Knight shrugged. "True. Yes, I have been so alone."

"In that case, come in my home, young one!" Feathered hands gently brushed against the burly knight's wrist and slowly led him into the small but elegant house. The occasional twig could be found in the otherwise spotless floor. There were a lot of chinaware displayed on shelves. Green statues of horses on their hind legs and red eagles with were decorations on tables and drawer furniture. The bounty hunter was drawn to the translucent crystal statues, shining from within itself. He reached his giant hand out to touch the sculptures. His thoughts were overwhelmed by the tiny voice in his head to steal-

"Some of these are made of real jade and ruby. Careful. Don't break them, alright?" The bird person chuckled, and picked up the broom leaning against the corner.

Treasure Knight stopped. His eyes scanned the bird person from beak to claw. His back was turned, and he was singing a small melody as he swept his tiled floor. The tone of his voice… was light? It was good? It was… not accusing? He faced the bird with his jaw agape. No loud yelling?

The feathered man looked over his shoulder and to the bounty hunter. His beady eyes shone, and he put the broom down. He glided over to the shelf, and carefully picked up a small jade eagle. Its wings were spread, and in its feet were a mouse and a snake.

"This is the symbol of the most powerful bird family in our history." He began as he wiped off the dust on the statue. "They rose to power, and protected the bird people from harm. And when they fell, we scattered across the land, and without their guiding power, the bird race fended for themselves until they were finally accepted."

Treasure Knight just balked at him.

"Do you feel left out?" He finally asked, wiping the green statue on his clothes. "If you do, take this. We were left out sometime in the past. But if you fight for your place and strive to do good, you'd get what you wish."

"Why are you saying things like this?"

"Maybe you started to wander because you felt like an outcast? I could never be sure. But being alone isn't so nice… so have this gift." He gently put the jade eagle into Treasure Knight's large hand and hummed a small song.

"Are you sure you want to willingly give me a jade-?"

"Do you feel alone?"

The disguised pillager just blinked at the bird man. "... yes?"

"Well then, I hope you have a good life, young one. Also, you look big and strong. Do you mind if I ask you to carry boxes for my business? I'll pay you."

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for uppercut.**_

Shovel Knight happily sat with children, sitting around the burning campfire. They all wore blankets over themselves and they sat on tiny logs. Pridemoor's greatest and legendary champion laughed as the kids all said the same thing.

"Story! Shovel Knight, story please!" The children chorused altogether, and the blue burrower couldn't help but laugh. His mind went back to a time he witnessed the greatest act of bravery in his life, and nodded to himself. He beckoned to the children, who then started huddling closer to him.

"I have a tale to tell you, not about myself, but about the greatest warrior I have ever met in my life."

The kids all uttered a small 'wow' and their eyes lit up. Their full and undivided attention was on him.

"His name… is the Stalwart."

"Polar Knight?" One of the young ones piped up. "Wasn't he part of the Order of No Quarter, sir?"

"Yes, I know. But he is the most powerful and most honorable knight in the world. Once upon a time, when yours truly was still a small child… there were three children playing in the snow. One girl and two boys. They were pretending to be soldiers. The girl was the evil magician who wants to get the Holy Stone of Hope, and the two boys were the Stone's guardians. The guardians must keep the persistent magician away from the stone for two minutes, and the magician is allowed to do anything but hurt the guardians. And the two boys were not allowed to go out of a circle-"

"Why did the magician want the stone?" One of the children disrupted the flow, tilting her head to the right. "What are the powers of the stone?"

Shovel Knight paused for a short moment, looking towards the side and shrugged. "The stone gives magicians more powerful magic. It allows them better powers."

"I would like a Holy Stone of Hope. I want to be a magician too." She innocently smiled at the shoveler. "I can turn bad people into statues."

"Child, bad people still deserve to be shown how it is to be good. And it's a small game made by children. Anyway, so! The two boys worked together to stop the evil magician! And so valiant were their efforts to halt her from seizing the power of the Holy Stone, but they all could not finish their play."

"Oh no! Why?"

Shovel Knight held his hands up and pounced at the children. They let out tiny yelps of surprise. "Attention! Bandits! But the three children were borne of knights brave and honorable. They were unafraid of the danger!"

"Did they beat the bandits up?" "Did the magician cast a spell on the bandits and turned them into statues?" "Did the Holy Stone glow so bright it blinded them?" "And they slipped on magical banana peelings and they got hit in the head!"

"The boys picked up their shovels and the girl grabbed her shield. 'We're not going down without a fight!', boasted the girl, and charged at the enemies. Remembering how their forefathers fought in battle, they fought, bouncing and bashing the enemy. But alas, for they were small children, they were still caught."

"Aw no!" Then came the chorus of complaints. But the story was not over yet.

"The filthy scoundrels threw the children into a rusty cage. 'You will make nice meat', said one of the bandits, 'you will be sold for the highest price'. And, overcome with fear and helplessness, the children screamed as loud as they could, but their cage was thrown inside a carriage, and the door was shut.

"But their struggle was not unheard, for the knight of ice and snow listened. Snow made everything quiet… and a small cry can be heard far away. His ear heard the children's cries, and the knight immediately grabbed his shovel and set out in the cold landscape."

"Yay, the rescue!"

"And when the knight reached the band of thieves, he was laughed at for having a shovel as a weapon. But the Stalwart knight did not let it faze him, and instead announced that victory was already his." Shovel Knight absent-mindedly grinned gleefully, his childhood memories fresh in his mind. "He fought, rolling the snow into large snowballs with one swipe of his shovel. And there was this one bandit that attacked the knight by jumping up high and pummeling downwards!"

"Oh no!"

"But the Stalwart knight knew everything! His beard gave him knowledge of everything happening around him. He turned on the ball of his foot, and shot his fist upwards, and sent his airborne opponent back up, up in the air!"

"Wow!" "He's so strong!" "That's so cool!"

The blue shoveller laughed. "A pun?"

"Yes, Punslinger of the Valley!" He smiled with his crooked teeth. "Cool!"

Shovel Knight laughed at his moniker and ruffled the kid's messy hair. "Anyway, when the knight was finished, the bandits were so hurt and defeated that they could only cower in the snow! He single-handedly defeated the swarm of enemies! The knight went to take the children out of their prison. His large strong hands ripped apart the metal cage and let the children out. They climbed up him and cheered. Do you remember who the knight was? It was Polar Knight… and Shield Knight, Black Knight, and I were the children in this story. And I literally stood on the shoulder of a giant."

The children erupted into noisy wonder.

Black Knight's face was contorted in a masquerade of a snarl, and Shield Knight poked him in the head. Polar Knight softly chuckled at Shovel Knight with kids from nearby, lightly tapping her shoulder. She smiled at her partner's storytelling, and then she looked up at the old warrior.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember this? What Shovel Knight told of?"

"Oh, of course! It was the time he looked up at you and made you his life idol!" She sipped her water from the wooden glass.

"He should know I did come with the Order of Shovelry. And I was not alone."

Shield Knight almost spat out her drink. "What? You were alone? Ehhh. Don't make such a weird claim!"

"You were alone." Black Knight murmured.

Polar Knight just chuckled softly. "My… children... you have grown."

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for undo.**_

The stars were bright and the half-moon illuminated the earth below. They watched the poor being in a forest, his clothes torn and burnt and his feet bare and bleeding from the sharp stones he had to walk on.

Anart's cold hands trembled, green spheres encircling them. They glowed dimly, like the runes on the ground, which were a faint yellow. He had clawed at the ground with his shaking hands and his tears had fallen to the writings. His voice was soft and he bit back his sobs.

" _Este ivi…"_

The lines on the ground glowed weaker, and he momentarily fell down on his knees. The spheres on his hands disappeared. The runes flickered before it became luminescent again, and he blinked his tears of panic away. He breathed in, before uttering the words of the time rewind spell.

" _Este ivi, seit vor re-"_

Violet flames erupted from the ground, growing quickly. He yelped and flinched, and the sorceress' counteracting spell sent him flying away. Fire burned on the ground, on the trees, and on animals that happened to be unlucky. The screams of death split the night.

"Do you think you would be able to rewind time, water mage?" The Enchantress growled, and she launched several fiery orbs at him. He quickly brought up a magical shield to protect him, but it failed immediately. He yelped at the scalding pain on his arms, legs, and chest. Parts of his hair burned off. Sharp daggers made of evil flame stabbed his stomach and chest, and he cried out in pain. She twisted those blades before letting them vanish, and she watched him fall down to the earth with sadistic glee.

"Every time you try to undo your mistake, you will have a taste of my power." She mocked, while watching him spit out blood and clutch his wounds.

"I don't deserve this…"

"Yes. You summoned the worst demon, sorcerer. In pursuit of power, you committed a mortal sin. And you know which of us is clearly more powerful. You cannot even use your own blood as a water source."

"I can… witch… just watch me." Anart coughed out, before his body gave out and he fell face down on the ground.

"You're just a pathetic mortal, water mage." She laughed before she disappeared in a flash of purple.

The fire around the dying sorcerer raged around and spread. His green eyes stared blankly at the creeping orange flames, slowly inching towards him. The smoke entered his lungs, and he couldn't even cough. Anart closed his eyes, breathing in dry and smoky air. His life was bleeding away.

There was a flash of lightning, and thunder roared from the heavens. Storm clouds quickly gathered, and torrents of rain fell from them.

The fires were extinguished in a matter of minutes and the cool rain soothed his dying body. In his dazed state, Anart saw a figure appear from a lightning strike. He felt his body being lifted up, and then saw blue and gold before sleep took him.

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for unstable.**_

"Anart. We have someone interested in the magic arts for you." Cecille gently ruffled Ophelia's hair. The young child clutched the new First Knight's cape when Anart knelt down and looked at her with inquisitive eyes. "She is the daughter of our late Three, Roman. She is now orphaned."

"Why did you not just bring the tyke to a daycare center?" The sorcerer raised his brow.

"She wouldn't stop talking about how she wants to meet you. And seeing that her father is gone, I thought it would be alright to let her see you." _And how unstable you are so she would just shut up,_ she didn't add.

"Oh! You wanted to see me? Good! I met your father once, I think, and I think he's amazing!" Anart smiled, and held up his hand to produce a small yellow sphere. "Look in this orb, little sorceress."

Ophelia stared at the yellow ball over the seasoned sorcerer's palm, and stopped quivering.

"Do you see your father's face inside?"

"That's… Siegfried." Ophelia croaked out, and the wizard gawked. Cecille sighed deeply.

"Ah, I have the wrong picture." Anart nervously chuckled, and pulled up the Enchantress' evil face for the little child to see. "Here is my enemy, the Enchantress. Do you know who she is?"

"The… evil demon up north…"

"Yes, yes. And do you know what I would like to do someday in revenge for making me like _this?_ " Anart cackled, his eyes taking on a white blaze. "I want to stomp her with my giant foot! She made me walk on sharp pebbles, and now I want to walk on her!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for usurper.**_

King Knight sneered at the horrific and misshapen husk of a man on the floor. The man who was Three did not look like himself anymore. A quivering Liquid Samurai head had grown on the left side of his head, replacing the area over his left eye and ear. Another shaking head emerged on the right side of his chest. A third samurai head was starting to sprout from between his shoulders. His body had lost its solid state and normal skin tone and was permanently in a barely cohesive liquid state. The terrible abomination was a messy mix of black, blue, red, and green. The thing's moans of pain were muffled by his own amorphous body.

The usurper turned to the Goldarmor and gave his next order. "Bring their Seven here. And dispose of that." He pointed to the being who was once Roman, the Third Knight. "It looks ugly. Get it out before I burn it myself."

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for Ultimate Potion.**_

He sat with his back propped up on three pillows piled on top of one another and his feet up. His right hand turned one page of his fellow researcher's book and let out a small sigh, and his left held a glass of apple juice. He continued sipping at his juice through his mask. He glowered at the corny name of the potion that his new acquaintance scribbled.

 _Serum Supernus._

"Mona! What is this?" He called out.

No answer.

 _Guess she's outside, then._ He curiously peeked back into Mona's book, peering at her drawings.

 _Research has proven the existence of a curious element in the alchemical makeup of a living being - a force of personality, somehow existing as a physical entity that can be extracted. The discovery was of pure accident. A sorcerer I am always at close proximity to accidentally cast the wrong spell because he uttered the wrong syllable._

Plague Knight sighed. That actual wizard already had a little bit of a stammer. Poor guy.

 _Instead of summoning a benign demon, he pulled out something from Percy. Further testing on Percy's 'force of personality' revealed that it was volatile but contains a lot of potential energy in the form of chemical reactions._

He read the side notes, a lot of it crossed out.

 _I should probably call it… "persona". No, "spirit". Wait, it wouldn't really qualify as a spirit, it's corporeal, so let's call it "persona". Testing on it reveals that Percy's idiocy still wasn't gone after dissecting the thing, so.. "Essence", I guess?_

" _Essence" seems to grow exponentially when combined with another "essence." Theoretically this might result in a powerful brew, but because more than three combined already cleared a crater in this plateau, we need to make things stable first. The question is how do alchemists deal with a physical manifestation of personality..._

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for unexpected.**_

Plague Knight and Mona's wedding went swimmingly. The Bard was playing music in the side with his orchestra-lute. Lovely music filled the Flying Machine, and couples were dancing for the reception.

A certain blond-haired man with a wide hat held a vase of flowers and walked around, his gaze scanning every person's face. He tried not to mind the entourage of women and, occasionally, men, following him, and he was already inwardly screaming for help. Clutching the vase of flowers and trying to not break into a sprint were both hard to do. He just wanted to give someonea nice bouquet of fresh and beautiful daffodils, gardenia flowers, and purple hyacinths...

Mole Knight told tales of his discoveries and assured the gentlemen that, no, there are no such things like cursed or magical idols that a lost civilization kept under wraps. And no, no one in his field deals with that crap. Except for maybe the time with the Enchantress, but magic exists, anyway.

Tinker Knight brought along his Cogslotters. They brought along so many sacks of toys and books for the kids that attended the wedding. And he played with them, mainly because he is of a kid's stature. After a long half-hour, he was approached by two girls. One of them was mute and the other, a little tipsy from enjoying shots of tequila, spoke about learning about engineering (and ransacking the Flying Machine's library). Tinker Knight had never been so happy. Being an engineering teacher for the night felt so nice.

Polar Knight and Black Knight coldly sat by the bar, downing glass after glass of wine, and telling listeners of their tales of valor.

Mister Hat tried to keep his eyes on the floor. The hats were all overwhelming. When he looked up, he would see Phantom Striker's spiky helmet and his sparking fleuret. He would violently rip his gaze away from his helmet and resume observing the floor. The rest of the Wandering Travellers did little else aside from eating a lot in the buffet. Reize loved the boiled chicken for some reason. Baz, still dressed in his Plague Minion outfit, happily chowed on fish and chips. Phantom Striker, the enigmatic and intimidating being of storms, grabbed all the cheddar cheese bars and nonchalantly hid them under his large cape.

Treasure Knight was secretly there, not attending as Treasure Knight, but under the alias of Anthony. He struck up a nice conversation with Polar Knight at the bar, and smiled for the first time in his new life back in extreme poverty.

King Knight, allowed one day of extravagant outfits, partnered with Propeller Knight, and then baltered onstage with all the pride in the world. No one could really point out to him that his steps were awkward and out of rhythm, but he did look like he was happy for once. The Frenchman let him dance himself to exhaustion. And King Knight fell asleep in the airship's infirmary ward, curled up in the thin blankets.

Propeller Knight was more than happy to be the noisy and energetic host, but he settled down with the others in a round table. Plague Knight and Mona sat together. Mona was so busy chatting with Shield Knight about their partners and their… shared love for plants.

"... the azalea contains an essence that can augment a cascade explosion up to three times." Mona infodumped to Shield Knight, who looked at her in wonder.

"Oh? Can you show me after?"

Plague Knight leaned towards Shovel Knight, striking up his _own_ conversation. "Look at Magicist and Percy."

Shovel Knight turned his head to look at the dancing couple. The Magicist seemed to laugh so much as Percy galloped around, whinnying loudly and doing what horse guys do to woo their romantic partners. "I don't see the problem."

"You know, I thought she had a crush on me, but I really liked to be dense, hee."

"How cruel of you." The blue burrower tsked. "You're a real heartbreaker, Plague Knight."

"I love Mona. What else should I worry about?"

"Are you secretly in denial she chose Percy?"

The little alchemist gawked at his friend. "No! It's just that… Percy's-"

"Now, now, _mes amis_ , what am I hearing?" Propeller Knight leaned towards Shovel Knight. "Are you two criticizing _l'amour_?"

"No, no." Plague Knight put his hands up and sheepishly sank in his chair. "I was just really going to say that Percy's an idi-"

Propeller Knight waved his hand up and shook his head, frowning at his friends. "Now let me tell you, m _on ami_ , there is no shame when you love and _aime encore de tout ton coeur_!"

"We don't speak frog, you know." Plague Knight scoffed in annoyance, and crossed his arms. But Propeller Knight had already launched into amourous mode, catching everyone's attention.

"Whoever or whatever it is! Whisper sweet words about how you love them and that you'd do _absolument tout_ for them!" The captain sighed happily, and wrapped his arms around himself. "And after all, you can still use your hands and arms, play with their so _douces plumes_ or _fourrure_ … then embrace them... get your lips closer... Then, let your passion flare up when your faces touch each other, your lips entering in contact... and then, it's the grand finale!"

"Oh no." Shovel Knight muttered under his breath. _He's never going to stop, isn't he?_ He made eye contact with the Frenchman's bodyguard standing just a small distance from their table and sent a telepathic distress message. Albrecht just shook his head and rolled his blue eyes in disappointment and walked to the knights' round table.

" _Le bouquet final, la cerise sur le gâteau! Le baiser!_ Slow or fast, soft or brutal! It's perfection! Use your lips, and your tongue… and while you kiss, you can also play with their hair, grip at it if they li-"

Albrecht finally had enough of it, and swiftly attacked by approaching his boss from behind and grabbing a fistful of his captain's hair. He gently yanked his hair downward after a short pause. Propeller Knight let out an overdramatic high-pitched yelp, and then furrowed his brows at his subordinate.

"Schtop. You're getting carried avay." Albrecht avoided his superior's gaze and crossed his arms.

Propeller Knight combed his fingers through his soft locks and rubbed at a spot. "I'm never going to let you touch my hair ever again, Albrecht. Like, ever." He reached up to grip at his friend's light brown curls and lightly pulled. "How does that feel?"

"Bite your butt, _Käse_." Albrecht growled.

"Bite yours too, _pomme de terre."_

" _Dummkopf."_

" _Idiot."_

" _Du bist verrückt!"_

" _T'es con!"_

Phantom Striker, sitting next to Propeller Knight, let out a soft growl in warning, his knife and fork sparking with electricity. The two immediately stopped. Once they went silent, the stormbringer calmed down, and began eating his dinner of spiced mashed potatoes.

"Wait. He can touch your hair?" Plague Knight pointed at the two flyboy friends. "What?"

"Of course! Anyone can touch my hair with permission!" Propeller Knight cheerfully elbowed the fencer sitting on his right. Phantom Striker carefully tucked his cheese stash under his cape to ensure security and then turned to face the Frenchman. He silently put his fork down on his plate.

"What is it that you wish to say, Propeller Knight?"

" _Caresse mes cheveux pour leur montrer que je laisse n'importe qui les toucher à n'importe quel moment_." The Frenchman shamelessly commanded, pointing to his hair and stroking his own locks.

"The heck did he just say?" Plague Knight squawked.

The knights sitting in the round table were taken aback by Phantom Striker's lack of surprise, fluent understanding of French, and wordless compliance. The lone warrior just shifted in his seat and reached his hands out to his seatmate.

 _Zap._

Then, the knights raised a brow when Propeller Knight's long hair stood up like sticks when the other fencer's finger poked his shoulder. Albrecht immediately lost his composure and laughed so hard at his superior's ridiculous hair. Phantom Striker awkwardly poked at his fellow fencer's hair with one finger before letting go.

Propeller Knight's hair fell down, cascading beside his face and still retaining the glow and volume it had before each strand stood on its end. He completed it with a flashy hair flip and an audibly gleaming smile.

"Hair goals." Mona giggled to Shield Knight.

"I'm so jealous of his hair. Let's ask what he does to make our hair look that way!" Shield Knight smiled.

Plague Knight tapped Mona's arm and spoke. "Hee hee… why are you two suddenly interested in hair?"

Mona cupped her short hair and let it bounce a bit on her palm. "I do want to look pretty sometimes. I also love my cut."

"We aren't allowed to have nice hair? I'm a knight, she's an alchemist. Everyone just does what they want. I happen to like makeup sometimes!" Shield Knight refuted with a mock scowl and went back to talking with Mona.

Albrecht let out a tiny snarl at Propeller Knight before entertaining a cook that had been standing there for a long and awkward moment.

"Vhat?"

The cook turned to Propeller Knight. "Captain, much of our cheese is gone."

Albrecht gazed back at his superior, meeting his eyes. Propeller Knight nodded then stood up from his seat and tapped Albrecht on the shoulder before leaving to inspect the cheese burglary. The German followed his captain close behind, not sparing a glance at the actual thief that had been sitting next to his friend. Phantom Striker paid no attention, anyway. The cheese was safely hidden.

Plague Knight turned to Shovel Knight. The latter had been staring at Phantom Striker for a few moments.

"Hee hee, Shovel Knight, do you know who he is?"

The cerulean warrior shrugged. "I first met him as I was nearing the Tower of Fate. He said something about the traits of respectable warriors."

"Wow! He told me that too. I think he's a little... " He made a swirling motion beside his temple.

"Plague Knight, I must be frank. You are a little like that, too."

"Wow, rude." He started to think if his wedding was getting any worse. He leaned in to whisper to the shoveller. "I don't like him."

"Then why did you invite him to your wedding?"

"I had to! Baz and Reize dragged him and that hat lunatic here!"

"He has not done anything wrong. I do admit, he is out of it." His voice lowered as he admitted it.

Phantom Striker was blissfully unaware, and continued enjoying his meal.

 _ **.**_

 _ **U is for umbrella.**_

"There's a storm! Take this umbrella with you!" Mister Hat thrust a fancy pink umbrella decorated with flower motifs and ruffles into Phantom Striker's hand, staring at his _magnificent_ spiky helmet all the time. The latter didn't mind the uncomfortable stare at his headgear, yet felt resistant to the former's fussing.

"Please do not be overdramatic _._ A storm I caused cannot harm me, and it is only light rain and wind. Do you see not?" Phantom Striker attempted to return the umbrella, but Mister Hat was too persistent.

" _Do you know how much damage rain does to metal?"_ The foppish hat dandy almost shrieked, stroking the spikes of the helmet. "I cannot afford to lose a shiny hat to rain!"

"Mister Hat. You forget that this is mine." He pointed at his spiked helmet, and then grinned widely as he watched the hat man fidget and twitch when he brought the helmet's ownership up.

"You _will take care_ of your _hat._ " The dapper dandy sternly squeezed his hand over Phantom Striker's, glaring intently. "And you will go out with an umbrella."

And so Phantom Striker had to bring a frilly pink umbrella for women. As soon as he got out of Mister Hat's sight, he closed the umbrella and let the rain soak him. He walked calmly under _his_ storm, not sparing the locals a gaze.

He heard whispers.

 _What a mysterious man. Powerful, too!_

 _I heard he had battled every Knight of the Order of No Quarter and Shovel Knight before the Tower of Fate crumbled._

 _I heard he's fierce and lusts after blood._

 _He lost to them all anyway. Who cares about him?_

 _He is controlling the storm. He must be evil… I don't get why the champions befriended him. Nobody could understand him._

 _He's silent and scary. Never even liked to be casual. Quite edgy, too. No one likes him._

He walked past Wallace, the guard by the entrance, and nodded wordlessly.

"Stay safe out of the Armor Outpost, Wandering Traveller." Wallace politely saluted. "You never know when evil elements strike."

"Ah, thank you." He replied softly, before leaving.

The stormbringer kept his head and shoulders high, until he had wandered far away. The storm still raged, the rain falling in torrents and the lightning flashing every now and then. By a cliff near the icy area of Polar Knight's domain, he sat down with his back to a boulder and pulled his spiky helmet off of his head. He let the rain on his face and slicked long hair towards the back with his fingers. The rain and the wind were his only true friends.

The lights in the Armor Outpost were dazzling and pretty. The ever-burning lava of the Lost City looked so beautiful. The Explodatorium was flooded with lights. And to the distance, Pridemoor's towns and castles were illuminated with lovely lamps. The Lich Yard was still dim, but the clouds above it cleared with Specter Knight's newfound peace. He looked the the western forest and blinked. Last time je had been there, it had been on fire, and someone had been mortally wounded in that wildfire.

He sighed. He always brought darkness and disaster, with his storm being his only companion. He truly enjoyed no one's company. Being alive alone was a challenge. And fighting alone is an even bigger challenge. He lived solely for the thrill of battle.

 _Everyone thinks I am frightening… but I do not care._

The storm subsided with the cloak of sleep wrapping around him. He clutched his cape close to him like a blanket.

He almost drifted into sleep when he heard a twig snap and a shocked gurgling yelp from beside him. His eyes snapped open, and he glared into the blue eyes of a small Liquid Samurai standing a few steps away from him. Lightning struck him and he disappeared briefly, only to return in a brilliant light with his fleuret in his hand. Electricity sparked in his figure and weapon as he eyed the enemy samurai with a grimace.

The blue warrior was too short. It was just half his height. And it wasn't dressed in the light armor that they usually wore. It only wore a bright blue _gi_ and it did not have even the horns on its head. It shook more when Phantom Striker inched closer, and when he pointed his weapon at it, it stepped back and whimpered. It drew its quivering arms to itself and finally screamed, before turning into a small globule on the ground, barely bigger than the stormbringer's palm.

Phantom Striker looked into its wide blue eyes, and wondered. It wasn't fighting, and it was shaking too much. He put his weapon down as he kneeled and inspected the terrified little blob.

The liquid child cried softly, so frightened to run, despite it being a blue Liquid Samurai. It was one of the worst opponents to encounter, but… here was one, terrified beyond its wits.

"Do not fear." He reached out and touched the top of its head. Its eyes squeezed shut. He stroked its hood gently. "Do not fear me, little one. I will not harm you, even if you belong to the enemy."

Its eyes opened and scanned his face. He picked it up with his palm and almost reacted to the ticklish sensation. It bobbed on his hand. Its eyes curled, and it let out a small laugh. It stayed on his hand and snuggled into it.

"Little one, are you lost? Do you not know where your companions are?"

Its eyes stayed on his face, still wide but its form shook less.

"Alright. Do not fret. Let us find them-"

Thunder roared, and the small blob let out a fearful shriek. It travelled up his arm and on his shoulder, burying its face into his soaked hair. He picked up his helmet and cape, put them on, and grabbed the umbrella. He opened it and held it above him. The small blob peeked out, bewildered at the lack of rain.

And Phantom Striker started walking. It still snuggled close to his neck and face whenever thunder rumbled, but eventually, it fell asleep on his shoulder.

Phantom Striker didn't pay much attention to the cute small samurai. And he continued to walk aimlessly.

The rain had ceased pouring in torrents, and the skies showered the earth with drizzle. And he walked and walked, all the while allowing the slumbering blob snuggle on his shoulder. Sometimes he would gently push it up when it started to fall off.

And eventually he found himself surrounded by liquid men, most of them colored green and blue. They had the strings of their _yumi_ drawn and their sights on him. Red samurai sprang up from cracks in the earth and behind trees to attack, their _katana_ swords pointed at him.

The tiny blue blob on the lone warrior's shoulder abruptly yelled, and they all stopped. It climbed up over his nose and eyes and reformed into a humanoid on top of his head. He didn't flinch at the weight on his head, and let the small samurai wave and shout.

The event that unfolded before him was amazing.

The greens and blues dropped their weapons and gurgled happily, their arms open. The small one on his head jumped off and sprinted to them, and it was immediately enveloped in a group hug. They blabbered and wept on the small samurai, like a family that had lost a child and found him after so much time.

The red ones did not move, and still eyed Phantom Striker. After all, they were still was about to summon lightning to bring him back to the Armor Outpost when he saw the small samurai sprint back to him and latch onto him.

" _Arigato! Arigato!"_ It cheerfullysaid before pushing his helmet off, leaning onto his face, and planting a tiny kiss on his cheek. Phantom Striker's eyed widened in utter shock as it hugged him as tight as it could. After a long moment it fell off him. It looked so pleased, while he still stared at it in puzzlement.

 _What did it do to me?_

The short samurai let out a puzzled gurgle and stared at the wet umbrella in Phantom Striker's hand. The latter looked at the introspective child-like being, and let out a thoughtful hum.

"Have this, little one." He knelt and gently offered him the pink umbrella he held, and it took the frilly umbrella. It gave him one last surprise hug and ran back to its companions. The red samurai lowered their swords and withdrew with their brothers, and left.

He watched the samurai walk away and wave goodbye to him, endlessly thanking him for his kindness and honor.

And once again, Phantom Striker was left alone. He sighed. _No true friends._ The lone warrior picked his helmet up and put it back on.

And so, in a lightning strike, he disappeared.

Needless to say, Mister Hat was beyond disappointed in him over losing the fancy umbrella.

 _ **Up next: V is for Valentine's Day.**_

Translations:

 _[Insert Propeller Knight's amourous speech in Franglais here] - My friend, there is no shame when you love and love again from all your heart! Whoever or whatever it is! Whisper sweet words about how you love them and that you'd do absolutely everything for them! And after all, you can still use your hands and arms, play with their so soft feathers or fur, then embrace them... Get your lips closer... Then, let your passion flare up when your faces touch each other, your lips entering in contact... And then, it's the grand finale! The finale, the cherry on the top of the cake! The kiss! Slow or fast, soft or brutal! It's perfection!_

 _Caresse mes cheveux pour leur montrer que je laisse n'importe qui les toucher à n'importe quel moment. - touch my hair to show them anyone can touch it anytime._

 _Arigato! - Thank you!_

 _Käse - cheese_

 _pomme de terre - potato_

 _Dummkopf - idiot_

 _Idiot - … do you even NEED me to translate this?_

 _Du bist verrückt - you are insane_

 _T'es con - you're an idiot/dick_

 _As such, please report typos to me through PM or Tumblr ask messages. The majority of this was typed using a phone. Thank you in advance!_


	22. V is for void

_To Monkey999Boy: But now, let's hit you with a lot of implications._

 _To Jason: Thank you! You_ can _call me a mademoiselle._

 _To the kind Guest: I will be okay, and thank you for your support._

 _ **I put up an announcement recently on my tumblr about why this is late. I… almost committed suicide last February 18.**_ _Because of that, my updates would probably be longer than monthly. It would be erratic, but I assure you, the content will be at the same quality as I wrap up the stories. And possibly longer than ever. So the wait would still be worth it. Don't worry much about me. I've got help._

 _Enough of bad news. Good news is that S-hovel and K-night has gotten 13,000+ views!_

 _More good news: Specter of Torment is out! And I did spoil myself before I wrote some of this, but don't worry. No spoilers ahead :)_

 _And I'm going to start acknowledging the plot that happened in SoT, but I'll still keep my original interpretation here. Mix and match. Ignore some others._

 _V is for void is directly inspired by Biovyx's Phantom Striker head(?) headcanon. ;)_

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for vegetable.**_

The Gastronomer slid a platter with a lid in front of Polar Knight.

"What is today's dish?" The gentle giant smiled to the cook.

"Today's meal is a healthy delight, and this dish will help your failing sight!"

The elderly knight happily took in the sight of spinach, squash, and kale on his silver plate.

Black Knight put down his fork. His face was scrunched up in a disgusted expression. "No, I'm not eating that. I want meat. I would like some roast chicken."

The cook simply laughed. "Today is Vegetable Thursday, my little friend with a shovel. If you eat meat today, you might end up drinking Troupple!"

"Well, fuck that! I want meat!"

Polar Knight harrumphed. "Language! This food helps your eyes. Eat vegetables while you're young."

"Absolutely not."

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for violent.**_

Several knights and all of the Wandering Travellers sat on chairs on the Flying Machine's deck, waiting for the bride and groom, as well as several other guests. The ceremony still hasn't started. The Bard, or priest-yacht god, strummed his magical lute and played music.

Propeller Knight brought his legs up to the table. He stretched his back and arms and then yawned.

"Today is so boring." The captain of the ship complained, sighing heavily. "Anyone up for entertainment?"

Phantom Striker wasted no time. He picked up his fleuret, marched to the sleepy Frenchman, and pointed his weapon to the latter's neck. _"Viens te battre avec moi si tu cherches un défi en ce jour monotone."_

"You speak French?" Baz spat out his juice.

Reize shrugged, staring at his glass of water with wide, frightened eyes. "Well, when a man and a lightning bolt love each other… things happen. The lightning becomes pregnant and gives birth to a baby Phantom Striker."

"Their nights must have been _electrifying_ , then."

"Baz, what the fu-"

"Reize, you are still a child. Don't curse, or the butt eaters will get you tonight."

"But I'm a warrior-in-training! I can handle this! I should be able to curse every now and then! How would enemy warriors treat me if I'm twenty-six and still say 'frick frack'?"

Propeller Knight smiled widely. _"Je ne renoncerais jamais une confrontation en duel mon ami."_ He slid off the chair and unsheathed his rapier. "One on one. Let's fight."

"Yes, _yes.._." He almost hissed, a bloodlust-y grin on his face. "Our rules?"

"Since we have different weapons, I think we should be able to strike anywhere. I will make sure I don't accidentally kill you with a stab to the liver." Propeller Knight snickered.

"I will make sure I do not _electrocute_ you to death." He spoke in a low voice, and held his weapon up, the knob-point skyward. Dark clouds gathered.

"This will be good. Alright, then. This is going to be fun, fighting another fencer, and the lightning is a challenge, _non_? _En g-"_

The two fighters were immediately disturbed by a screech for one certain old dandy, whose longsword was already hoisted up and ready to rip headgear off of heads. The clouds dissipated without any warning.

"HAT, DO NOT DO IT!" Baz bellowed, but alas, it was too late.

" _HAAATS!"_ Mister Hat shrieked in his fervor, attacking Propeller Knight first. Phantom Striker jumped in front of the airship captain and blocked by preemptively parrying the attacker's wrists and then fluidly directing the hat man around. He even had the time to shock the hat-obsessed lunatic a bit before letting go. Propeller Knight backed away slowly, hands up.

"This is fun." The stormbringer laughed. "Fight me, Hat."

" _OF COURSE. I WANT YOUR HAT. SPIKY HAT! COME TO ME, MY LOVE!"_

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for void.**_

"Please get off of Phantom Striker!" Reize begged as he pulled on Mister Hat's tailcoat. The hat man was on top of the stormbringer. Both of his hands were holding on two of the spikes, while Phantom Striker held on his helmet as hard as he could. His fleuret was lying out of his reach.

"I can't cannonball! I'll get killed by those spikes!" Baz turned around as awesome as he could and bellowed out at the other knights. "HELP!"

"Please, Mister Hat, please get off our lightning friend!" Reize tugged at the mad hatter.

" _My love, my lovely hat… come to me."_

"This is _my_ helmet, Hat." He grunted and twisted his arms behind to shock Mister Hat with his hands. Sparks of electricity visibly crackled around his body.

"Ow! I don't care! This is going to be mine! Ow! _Stop electrocuting me!_ "

"Hat, please stop, I'm just a kid and Baz isn't even yanking you away!" Reize shot Baz a death glare. The latter sheepishly walked back to the three, mumbled his apologies to the kid warrior, then did his job. Baz yanked the hat man away, but the latter's hands seemed to have been glued on the spikes of the helmet. And naturally, the helmet came off.

Phantom Striker let out an uncharacteristic yelp of shock. _No, I cannot let them see my face! Hide!_

Guests screamed and lost their collective shit.

Propeller Knight fainted almost immediately, a hand over his forehead.

Hoverhafts started spouting various curses along the lines of ' _putain de bordel de merde'_ at the sight. Hover Meanies shrieked in terror and shielded their eyes with their hands.

Shovel Knight put his hand over his chest in shock.

Shield Knight raised her brow.

Polar Knight and Black Knight let out a thoughtful hum.

Mole Knight couldn't see things. He was sitting on a chair and people blocked his view.

Tinker Knight saw things for once. He was standing on a table.

Anart was too busy playing with a cat, and got knocked over by a guest who had stepped backward and made him trip unfabulously.

Reize let out a whimper, stepping back. Tears flooded his eyes and his lips quivered.

Phantom Striker had an amorphous cloud under his helmet, instead of a human head with long messy hair. The other Wandering Travellers shuffled. Mister Hat put down the spiky helmet and fussed over the young man, patting him on the shoulder and hugging him. Baz looked at Phantom Striker with a look of disappointment. The cloud-headed stormbringer stood up, put on his helmet, and walked to the kid.

Reize began to bawl into Mister Hat's fancy coat, screaming into his friend's arm and chest. "I'M GONNA HAVE NIGHTMARES!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for village.**_

"I miss home." The young girl tugged at Cecille's cape. The new First Knight looked down at Roman's child.

"Ophelia… you know that your home is overrun with the undead?"

"Yes… I miss home. I want to go home. Can you please… help me go home?"

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for value.**_

Treasure Knight, still dressed in his disguise, put up the gem against the light. He held a magnifying glass between the gem and his left eye. He breathed in calmly. It was a purple amethyst cut with a teardrop shape, and was faceted. His breath was held in intense concentration.

After some time, Treasure Knight sighed.

"The gem… is a little cloudy." He murmured to the elderly bird person. "But cloudiness is still beautiful with amethysts."

The bird person sighed. "I might want to sell that… I'm running out of money in my business. That's… my late wife's favorite gem. She died last year. I've sold everything you see on the shelf that isn't yours." He shrugged.

The bounty hunter pursed his lips.

"Let me guess, young man. You lost someone, too? I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"I had a puppy. He was beaten to death."

The elderly bird man smiled sadly, his beady eyes serene despite his pooling tears. "I loved my wife. I'm sure you loved your... puppy dog." He shrugged.

"I did." Treasure Knight sighed, cupping his chin in his hand. "I loved my dog so much."

"You know, young traveller, do realize there is still more to live for. I'm an old bird. But I still want to live." He laughed, and cocked his head to the right. "I kind of want to hire you. I could use some company around here. I'm an old avian that can't do much."

"I would be able to visit… but I believe none shall hire me."

"Of course, young man. I don't mind if you want to wander the world, too. And thank you for assessing the value of the gem. You are a good person there. What do I call you, if ever you come back here?"

Treasure Knight didn't even think about a cover name. He thought of the money he got from a thousand leagues below, and started calculating in his head. "Anthony. Call me Anthony. And don't worry about your business. I am sure it will get better. I promise."

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for visitor.**_

The Cogslotter held up two young girls. Their wrists were bound by rope. One of them was mute and the other was beyond noisy, her voice powerful and sonorous. Tinker Knight growled to himself. The noise was his worst enemy. There was already thunder coming from the Tower of Fate, and this girl's endless shouting wreaked havoc in his poor ears.

As if the thunder from the Enchantress' ugly tower was not enough. The deafening yells of the young girl caused a migraine in the inventor's tiny head.

He found himself appreciating the silent teenaged child and her quiet attitude.

"Sir, we found these two young kids stealing books from your library."

"Knowledge for the knowledge god!" The yelpy girl screamed and thrashed in her binds. "Let us out! We only want to read books! It's full of knowledge we want to know!"

"Wait. You seek books in engineering?" The inventor's fury and annoyance was thrown out the window and replaced with genuine happiness.

"Anything for knowledge!"

"Well, young ones! You can get literary books and engineering books from me! And if you need help, call on me!"

"Can you teach us engineering, little person?"

Tinker Knight's eye twitched at her blunt uttering of the words 'little person' to refer to him, but he shrugged it off with a heartfelt smile. "Of course! I am the best in this world! I'm a pioneer! I am your best bet!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for**_ **volante.**

" _Maman!" The toddler raised his paintbrush up and flapped the paper he had drawn on. On it was a beyond crappy drawing. The picture resembled a giant boat, but it was not on water. It was floating high above the land, joining the puffy clouds that drifted in the wind. It sailed across the sky with a smiley face drawn in its port side. "Maman!"_

 _His mother smoothed the skirt of her silver gown and smiled at her toddler son, now jumping up and down and giggling. She tickled his sides and chubby arms, and the little noble boy laughed._

" _Yes, my little… laughing heir?" She picked her son up and held him aloft. "What is it, my baby boy?"_

" _I want a_ machine volante! _And I want to fly in the beautiful sky!" The toddler raised his arms up and cheered. The mother spun around, her gown flowing as he turned._

" _One day, my little prince, you will fly in the heavens. For now, up you go!"_

/*eleven years later*/

" _Here is your_ machine volante, _my son."_

 _The young and arrogant heir of Eastern France's war-torn lands had his jaw on the floor. The magnificent ship was repurposed with propeller blades, allowing it flight in the skies. On its sides were brand-new cannons, avant-garde in design and polished to the point that the metal glimmered so intensely in the noon sun. Its walls were thick, and the Flying Machine, in its first iteration, looked a little bulky with the flight mechanisms too large and heavy. But nevertheless, the young teenager happily took in the sight of his father's first gift to him in his entire life._

"Machine volante!" _The heir held his arms up, shook his hands, and smiled widely. His hazel eyes were full of brightness and joy at the big flying-ship. Not all boats are for the water now!_

" _You wanted one when you were four years old."_

" _I wanted one? I don't remember!"_

" _You were_ four. _You are_ fifteen _now. You were overly enthusiastic about it when you w-"_

" _I love it! I want to live in it!"_

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for vector.**_

The Alchemy Academy (name still open to suggestions) wasn't exactly full of students. Sure, it had a student population of around fifty people, but with only two willing teachers working full time, and students dropping out, the Academy was in serious trouble of closing.

Especially with the former Supreme and Venerable Society of Pridemoor's Children, the resistance group that almost attained victory, looming over the former Knights of the Order of No Quarter.

Well, until Tinker Knight became an instructor.

"Alright, class, today we are going to tackle vectors and their subsequent applications in simple motion." Tinker Knight climbed up the ladder and wrote the word 'vector' in large letters.

The class paid attention, their wide eyes on their tiny teacher. Two girls, one of them mute and the other the mute girl's friend, sat in front, right before the teacher's table and absorbed everything Tinker Knight said. She noted down every single pun Tinker Knight had uttered. One boy with glasses wrote mechanically on his notebook. A small boy, no higher than his own desk, watched the equally short Knight blabber on about physics, and marvelled at his intelligence.

Tinker Knight was a good teacher.

Meanwhile, in Plague Knight's classroom, things were just different.

"Nitrogen triiodide and cluster powder can actually be stabilized by using a- what?!" The little alchemist squawked upon turning to his class. Every single future alchemist had their heads on their notebooks, books, or arms, fast asleep.

He had to detonate the tenth noise bomb that same day.

Tinker Knight retaliated by letting his students set up a giant kazoo and a giant vacuum machine.

Of course, there was still a third teacher working in the same institution. The green-skinned woman sighed, blew her bangs away from her eyes, and put on a nasty scowl. She put down her piece of chalk and then picked up the tiny Dynamo Decanter sitting on her desk.

"Class, I may have to leave you for a moment. Your other professors are being very noisy. I will be back in precisely seventeen minutes."

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for Valentine's Day.**_

The day of love was a spectacular day.

The Bard may or may not be responsible. He continued strumming his orchestra lute as the day around him went on. Couples of all kinds went about, giving each other roses, chocolate, oats, straw, sticks, feeds, seeds, and sometimes the occasional knife. The knife was not used for stabbing cheating partners, do not worry. Knights gifted each other daggers and swords and praised each other's valor.

The minstrel laughed to himself. Valentine's Day was a thing in _his_ world, not this one.

/*Flying Machine*/

Albrecht was soundly sleeping in his quarters, buried under his blanket and numerous pillows. His ears did not register the happy shouts as the other crew members opened their personalized presents from the captain.

He dreamed of his little baby quintuplet brothers and sisters all grown up in his twenty-year absence.

His peaceful dreams were interrupted by a very _loud and annoying_ Frenchman. Propeller Knight kicked the door of his quarters open, hollering all the way while making as much noise as he could with his heavy footsteps. The captain held a yellow parcel with a blue ribbon wrapped around and tied in an elegant bow.

"Wake up, _ami!"_

"Go avay. I haff been dreaming about my siblings."

"But today is the day of love, _ami!_ The Bard has said that today is a day of love, and I am romance incarnate, so entertain me! Come on! Everyone else is awake! You're German, you should have been up the earliest!"

"Hnn. I am anti-romance incarnate."

"But only for one minute, _s'il te plaît._ " Propeller Knight bounced up and down on the mattress while tapping on his best friend's back. "Please? I promise."

Albrecht sighed in defeat, and then sat up. "One minute."

"Just open it! I spent ages working on everyone's gift! I gave Pierre a small eagle stuffed toy..."

Albrecht tuned out his superior naming everyone in the airship. _He memorized all our names, what a nice boss_ , he thought to himself, as he started untying the ribbon. He let his friend drone on about his gifts full of love to literally everyone on the Flying Machine. Even the mousers got gifts.

He started unwrapping the present.

"... and- oh, you already unwrapped it."

Albrecht held up the present with a scowl on his face. In his hands was a black knitted jacket with what looked like tiny red polka dots sewn on it. He narrowed his blue eyes and looked at the little red and yellow dots.

The red dots were actually very tiny flowers. Some of them were shaped like daisies, tulips, roses, and poinsettias. The yellow dots were little leaves.

"Zhis is not my type." Albrecht muttered lowly.

"Flowers make Germans constipated, I know." Propeller Knight giggled. "But look! I made this with my own hands! A black warmer, because black is your favorite color aside from blue and you are drab. And I put roses and other flowers on it because I l-!"

"It looks varm, zhough."

"Try it on! For me!" Propeller Knight shoved the jacket to his best friend and bounced excitedly.

"Alright. All for you."

/*Village*/

"Good morning, knight with a shovel!" Farrels nodded happily. "I have heard you have defeated King Knight!"

"Yes, and I shall reach the Tower of Fate in no time!" The cerulean knight saluted, and smiled up at the younger guard. "I am getting closer to my objective."

"And what is that, if I may ask?"

"I must save my beloved from the Tower. I wish to see her once again."

"Ah, good luck, wanderer!" _Also, who is this guy again_ , Farrels thought to himself, _something like Shuffle Knight?_ The guard scratched his nose and looked at the shovel. "You need plenty of luck. The Enchantress has been cruel to my cause. We fight for our freedom, for the kingdom! Sadly, we only can defend our posts… we cannot retake any more and our progress has been halted."

"Halted?"

"A few moons ago… there had been a surprise attack on our camps. Sad to say that our troops have been reduced from hundreds of thousands to the mere thousands."

Shovel Knight glanced aside. _So that's why they have been less in number…_

"We are still leaking our wounds, little knight with a shovel. We had aspired to be the liberating force of the Valley if there were no champions. Our founders decided it was time for the people to be its own champion."

"I am back, and my actions shall save you."

 _Huh, who does he think he is? A legend?_ Farrels narrowed his eyes at the tiny blue knight, but shrugged anyway. "But we have been severely weakened. Win this war for everyone, little knight with a shovel. You look promising."

The memory of _her_ , in her shining red armor, flickered in his mind before Shovel Knight raised his unorthodox weapon up. "For the Valley. And for Shield Knight."

Shovel Knight strode in the Village, giving Farrels one last salute. Farrels stared at him long after the tiny blue knight entered the marketplace, thoughts about his childhood in mind. He narrowed his eyes at the shovel blade.

 _Wait, is that Shovel Knight? I think I heard of him when I was little. Oh shitbucket. Does that shovel qualify as a weapon?_

/*Lich Yard*/

Specter Knight could have twiddled his fingers in nervousness and dread if it weren't for his status as Reaper of the Valley. His claws did not hold his large weapon, and instead he held a small basket in his hand. There was nothing in the basket except a small white pillow he had taken from one of the houses in his domain. The winds have been stronger. His form ached from all the fighting he had to do.

 _She_ was watching him fight and fail. _Her_ Dragon, _her_ supposedly most loyal servant, her lackey… was just a failure of a warrior. But it's not as if he never rebelled against her.

 _Isn't that my true weakness? To fail at everything I do? And never get my humanity back?_

The day of love in the peaceful mortal village was going to be his day of dread. He looked around to see if there were spirits wandering nearby, sat down on a ledge, took out the pillow from the basket, and wrapped his arms around it.

 _I expect a punishment from her very soon. What would it be this time? Last time, I was subjected to so much light magic from all of those light wands…_

He clutched at the pillow and thought of his grave mistake…

 _No more love for me… for the rest of eternity._

/*Coastline*/

Treasure Knight, dressed in the white and brown garb of a lowly peasant, knelt before the small cairn. A small spirit barked at him and tapped at his foot, tail wagging happily.

"It has been a long time, isn't it?" The large man sat down beside the pile of flat stones and removed each stone one by one. "It's time for you to be moved to a quiet place, now. Somewhere more beautiful. Somewhere grander. I now have the money to buy entire castles. I can relocate you to a guarded tower, and I'll decorate it with your favorite colors…"

/*Clockwork Tower*/

"Yes, just hand them the rose." Tinker Knight almost growled. _Fuck this 'day of love' thing._

"So, boss, I just give my partner a bouquet of roses?" The Cogslotter asked for the millionth time. Tinker Knight wanted to somehow rip his own arms off.

"If you can't do the steps I gave you, why are you here to work for me?" The engineer held his arms up on his sides. "Just give them that. Now go out. I have things to do."

TInker Knight nudged at the Cogslotter's legs and started to push the latter out of his workshop. Even if the knight couldn't actually push an object half his own weight, the large man just went along and walked towards the door.

"I'm a little nervous."

"They all are." Tinker Knight hoarsely muttered. _What is the point to this day anyway?_ "Now get your huge self out of here."

Once they reached the door, they bumped into a Gear Wizzem. The poor Wizzem was knocked backwards. His own bouquet of roses fell to the floor.

Tinker Knight was a bit stupefied when the Cogslotter caught the Wizzem, and then offered his roses to the latter. Both minions stared up at each other's eyes.

The tinkerer turned around on the ball of his foot, shut the workshop door, and silently pondered on how the wedding should go.

/*around the Explodatorium*/

Plague Knight skipped around happily. He enjoyed the snow and wind, and it was one of those rare times that playing in the snow didn't feel like a bad idea at all. The latest experiment resulted in a tiny blizzard that happened only around the Explodatorium.

The feeling of the cold snow on his covered feet felt a little moist. The heat in his tiny feet left and went towards the snow, but he did not mind his chilly toes. The sun was too hard on his eyes and skin, and the moon was too dark. Cloudy days and snowy days were the best. He especially loved the white little specks that fell daintily down from the heavens above.

He held his arms up and watched the snow fall lazily down from the clouds. Under the beaked mask, he had a small and content smile.

Plague Knight looked to the left.

Then looked to the right.

The glanced over his shoulder to check.

He paused for a short moment.

Plague Knight giggled and held his arms up, to imagine two hands holding his own. He closed his eyes and moved his feet and arms. The Troupple King was kind enough for a dance lesson…

The tango was a dance of love and passio-

The little dancing alchemist tripped over a rock jutting out of the chilling blanket of snow. He tumbled down with a surprised squawk. He managed to twirl around and land on his front. Before he landed, he squeezed his eyes shut for yet another hug for the earth.

 _Thud._

"Argh." He let his body go limp for a moment to absorb the snow's judging cold, before opening his eyes.

A lone flower, colored bright yellow, greeted him. Its petals were still fresh and it stood out from the boring white backdrop.

Plague Knight quickly sat up and examined the flower very closely. He pulled off his mask and thrust his face close to it.

A tiny, yet pretty flower standing out in the winter. Even in the harsh and pressured conditions of the environment, beauty still prevailed.

 _Like Mona._

/*Lost City*/

"Free hugs! Hugs for love day!" Mole Knight chuckled as he glomped a laughing linguist. "Everyone is doing so much and we couldn't have gone this far without all of you working hard on this expedition!"

"Hugs, bro! Great job!" A Mole Minion patted his fellow Mole Minion on the back as they shared a lovely hug. "We got the entrances guarded, and we better keep it up!"

"You too, buddy! We're gonna keep it up!"

"Hug! Hug!"

"Hug!"

"Will you go out on a date with me?"

"Ahh! I will! I love you!"

"Ice! Ice for those who are tired!" A young voice called out, and every adult turned to the direction of the young to-be-anthropologists.

The students walked in carrying bags of ice brought from the Explodatorium.

"Plague Knight had a blizzard problem earlier and he said we can get all the ice we want!"

"A blizzard?" One of the Mole Minions raised a brow. "What?"

"Yeah!"

Mole Knight smiled. "You know, we could use a break from all this heat. Who wants a snow party for love day? Who wants to disturb Plague Knight? Let's prank him, haha!"

/*Hat Shop*/

Phantom Striker stared out to the sky as he clutched his blue cape close to him.

"Mother, today is the day of love. I believe someone is in love with me. What steps shall I take? I am… uneducated in the art of roma-"

"Striker!" A young man jumped between him and the window, dragging along a large man with him. Reize waved a bouquet of roses in front of the stormbringer with a giant smile on his face. "Wanna come with me to the Lich Yard? I just want to check with my friend there! And then I'm gonna give this to the girl I like because Plague Knight wouldn't let me get a love potion. I gotta woo her the old classic way..."

Baz pointed to his flower crown. "And I will give flowers to my bird coworkers. Ha ha! Hummingbirds love flowers. Want to come, Striker? We can give you a flower crown too! Hat crafted them. Works with the spikes." He pointed to the spikes on his garb. Tiny flowers were taped on them.

"I will never set foot in the Lich Yard again until Specter Knight has been evicted."

"But Striker..." Baz pouted.

"No."

"Why not?" The large warrior insisted. "We can punch through the Lich Yard's forces. And Specter Knight is Rei-"

Phantom Striker grumbled under his breath. "No. Specter Knight is a _dishonorable_ -"

" _Hello, Phantom Striker…"_ Mister Hat drew out the last syllable as he entered the room. His helmet was off and he had a small smile on his face. In his hands was a flower crown. "Your hat deserves flowers… I love your hat."

"Gods, Hat, you sound creepy." Baz shrugged. "Are you in love with Phantom Striker?"

Mister Hat reeled back. "N-no!"

"Hat, this _helmet_ is mine. I love my _helmet_. It is spiky, intimidating, and helps with my power. It loves me back. And no, I do not-"

Mister Hat plopped the flower crown on Phantom Striker's head. The crown fit the spikes snugly. Reize giggled and wrapped the fencer with his arms. Phantom Striker's body tensed, unused to hugs. Baz captured the other three (carefully maneuvering his body as not to accidentally impale himself with a spiky helmet) in a tight bear hug and laughed. Reize chuckled at his friend's affection. Mister Hat blushed bright red and looked away.

After a moment, three of the warriors felt a painful but tiny electric shock, causing the group to jump away from their lightning fencer.

"You know, we wouldn't be bad as a group!" Reize smiled. "Let's call ourselves… the Wandering Travellers!"

"A group I can be in?" Baz grinned.

Reize beamed. "Of course! And we can train each other to be honorable and decent warriors!"

"Hats, too?"

"Yes. Hats."

"New group hug!" The largest man picked everyone up and trapped them in another bear hug.

It took an instant for Phantom Striker to shock everyone another time. Poor guy didn't understand what hugs were.

/*Pridemoor Keep*/

"Your Majesty… in order to show my _undying love and loyalty_ to you, I have created a golden cape for you." A man in torn and smelly rags hoisted up his wonderful work for the pretender king to gaze upon.

"Yes, yes, this gift is absolutely marvelous." King Knight smiled warmly at the golden fleece cape held by the tailor. The latter's shoulders dropped, and he sighed deeply. The cape was adorned with stained glass in the form of jewels.

"Thank you for your kind words, your Majesty."

"Wonderful, wonderful, now put it on the left pile." The usurper gestured to the piles behind his throne.

The tailor half-strode towards the pile and carefully dropped the cape with fake fleece and fake gems. The pile, full of anything gold or anything that glitters, was separated from another pile of flowers, fruits, read, cuckoo clocks, and every other gift.

"Next!" King Knight called out as soon as the tailor scurried out and away.

/*Stranded Ship*/

"Do you think this… shirt... looks nice?" Polar Knight held up a knitted shirt. It was blue with green stripes. He allowed the Tundread to take a nice look at it before he pulled the shirt inside out.

"How nice." The spear-thrower spoke in a flat voice.

"I made it in such a way… that the inside would have blue-green-blue..." Polar Knight pulled it inside out again, "and then green-blue-green."

"Amazing."

"I would like to give my son-in-law this shirt…"

"He would not mind. You have grown with him."

"That is true." The Stalwart sighed, his shoulders dropping. "I am unsure if he would still respect me."

"The day will come, sir."

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for view.**_

Whenever the reaper wanted or had to converse with his personal assistant, he made sure not to let his gaze fall further down the end of her skirt. Finding her lower legs fade away gradually until it reached her ankles was something that gave Specter Knight the worst chills in his undeath.

She also had a tendency to appear around corners without warning, in a rush and her skirt lifted up by her hands. She would yelp loudly and greet him nervously while he tried not to shout his surprise and look up at the sky and not at her.

 _Her feet are gone. I do not want my feet cut off._

He pressed form to the wall and peeked out to make sure there were no scary maiden ghosts. And there she was. Mitzi was not exactly running to his direction, but was floating above a patch of sinking soil. She was careful as to not touch the ground. She had her frilly skirt bunched up. He watched curiously from a distance, listening intently to her voice.

The souls tied to the red earth groaned and shook their chains but the ghost girl only shushed them.

"Please, friends, look. I promise I'll do my best to convince the master to let you out, okay?"

The trapped spirits all let out small groans.

"I'll work for him, don't worry, okay? Then one day I'll ask him to let you out."

The apparition let out a small sigh. He looked at his servant with a soft gaze(while keeping his gaze away from her footless legs) and floated over to her. He lowered his scythe and approached. Everything abruptly became silent as he approached the spirit girl.

"H-hello, master…" She stammered out, and bowed in front of him. She bent her body so low that Specter Knight briefly thought of himself, kneeling before _her-_

"You should not bow that low in front of me." He spoke softly, maybe too softly.

Mitzi glanced sideways, and looked at her buck-toothed friend and her bespectacled mentor. They gave her a crooked smile and wiggled at their chains. She bowed even lower, and Specter dropped his scythe (to the chagrin of the souls forced to live as sinking soil) to put his hands on her shoulders.

"No, I _order_ you. Do not bow that low."

"I have to please you to help my friends..."

He squeezed his eyes shut at the traumatic memory taking form before his very eyes. The burning on his arms and face started stinging him once more.

" _You will have to please me to earn back my trust, you worthless failure. I know of your lingering desire to be human again. Remember that you squandered your chance to live once more. If you do not wish to join me, I will cut you apart, piece by piece, and burn your soul until you are erased from the universe. Your agony will be worse than hell. And you shall be eradicated from the fabric of existence."_

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for volatile.**_

"Why were you playing with volatile liquids, Tinker Knight?" Mona spoke with a soft tone, fishing out a bottle of green glowing substance from her sack.

The devious engineer bit his lip and hissed as Mona lathered his burn hands with minty liquid.

"I never knew you as not being cautious. Why did you try to meddle with explosive substances? Not to mention nitroglycerin and cluster powder! What are you scheming this time?"

"I remembered that Plague Knight once had an entire wing of the Explodatorium blown off by accident. I wish to replicate its effects."

"You do know that large amounts of it would level your own tower, too?" Mona shut her mouth immediately. The _Serum Supernus…_

"Yes. I have calculated. This is an accident I do not wish to repeat."

"Why are you trying to replicate this combination?"

"The Enchantress possesses a human body. Its form is fragile." Tinker Knight spoke flatly, staring into the floor. "She is only a spirit. And I plan to get rid of her physical connection. Mole Knight spoke of her origins as he found in the Lost City. She is a fraud, a demon. And we work together. What do you think?"

Mona shrugged. "We have our own goals. But in my opinion? It would be a good alliance. The three doctors of the Order of No Quarter, all together."

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for venerable.**_

"The Armor Outpost is ours!" Wallace announced, raising his saber up and watching as his forces fought the Liquid Samurai. His soldiers, while slower than the fluid and nimble samurai, successfully drove the Enchantress' goons away.

Wallace smiled in triumph when his men started to cheer for their imminent victory. He remembered when his village was attacked by these liquid men, who can turn into small inert blobs and reform into humanoid abominations. He remembered the way they crashed into the windows of his house when he was still a helpless child and slaughtered his father and older brother.

That was eight years ago…

But now Wallace was part of the Society that wished for the freedom of the Valley in the absence of its champions.

"The Armor Outpost has now been liberated!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for vacation.**_

"This Order of No Quarter thing is so stressful…" Propeller Knight removed his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair.

"All play, no work." Specter Knight grumbled from beside him.

The Frenchman hissed. "Well, if you just _didn't force us to join,_ I would still have a youthful face. I looked in the mirror this morning, and I found a wrinkle!" He pointed to a corner of his mouth, showing off an imaginary wrinkle. "I'm going to look _old_ at this rate! I'm still young! I'm supposed to be sexy!"

"If you do not focus much on your looks, you shall find yourself less burdened."

"Well, I know you're _handsome_ , but not as sexy as I am. Maybe that's why you died too early."

"Quit it." Mole Knight buried his face in his claws. "I'd kill for a tropical island vacation now."

"That's it!" The Frenchman's scowl instantly lightened up into an enthusiastic face. "A vacation! I can arrange for a trip!"

"I want a vacation." Plague Knight raised his tiny green hand. "Vacations for the win, hee."

"I would like to experience the sun." Polar Knight muttered softly.

"I want to surf a big wave." Tinker Knight chuckled.

Propeller Knight clapped his hands and beamed. " _Ouais!_ Let's go to a tropical island and sunbathe! I will send for one of my ships to transport us safely!"

/*Some time later*/

"Please tell me we are not… being punished. Hee." Plague Knight laughed nervously at the elegant airship, which was on fire. On _purple fire._

"This is YOUR fault!" King Knight shoved the poor bird man to the floor. "You set our ticket out of this hell on fire-"

Polar Knight grabbed the usurper's cape and held him up off the sandy ground. He stared right into King Knight's eyes. "No. Arguing." He let go of the terrified king, and crossed his arms. "You are aware that there is a storm coming."

"Aaaah! _Mes dieux!_ What 'as 'appened to my ship?!" Propeller Knight exclaimed, his hazel eyes wide in sheer horror. "My ship ees rueened!"

"That is not the poin-"

The Frenchman fell to his knees, steady tears streaming down his eyes. "My ship!" He cried out in despair, his hands shaking at the sight of his airship burning down helplessly.

"Shh… we will get out of-" Tinker Knight attempted to comfort the captain, but he was interrupted by the latter's hysterical screaming.

"All of our zhings were in zhere! Remember? We all put our zhings zhere!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for vacant.**_

Albrecht painfully sat up, coughing into his hand and staring at the splotches of blood on his palms. His hands shook at the sight of his palm and fingers coated in red. There were globs on his hand that were not quite like blood.

"Hey, you shouldn't sit up!" A Hover Meanie with a cross armband on his arm protested loudly, gently pushing the guard back down. "The boss wants you to rest, and he will be disappointed if you don't!"

"To hell vizh zhat." Albrecht grunted, and the Meanie gasped at the blood on his lips. The latter grabbed a tissue and wiped the blood off his face. He dunked his bloodied hand in a basin of water.

"None of the stubbornness now, Albrecht." The Hover Meanie sternly spoke while fixing his pillows and blanket. "Propeller Knight would be upset. You are his best friend now. You dying will affect him more than you think. You're _dying_."

" _I am aware."_ He stared up at the ceiling with a stubborn look on his face. His brows were slightly furrowed and his lips were pursed. "Do somezhing for me. Get me normal Hoverhaft armor."

"What are you planning to do?" He narrowed his eyes at him, despite the German using his icy stare. "I have been authorized to stop you from anything else and do whatever I could to make you stay here. I quote, 'he has been keeping secrets from me. I want him quarantined and temporarily demoted to conscript'. Does that sound like a military order? Because it is."

Albrecht did not respond.

"You are too weak to fight for a long time. For now, antimony for you. You need to rest and heal from this illness."

Defeated, the second-in-command sank in his mattress.

" _He has been keeping secrets from me."_

He could almost hear his superior's dejected tone in his mind.

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for violet.**_

Propeller Knight ripped open the violet envelope in his hands and frowned as he read the newest letter.

 _Come home, my son._

 _I really love you. Please come back. Please fly home safely and back here at home. I'm so worried for you. I know in my heart that maybe you aren't coming home because you are being held captive by the Order of No Quarter. Perhaps you are forced to stay. I am your mother and I love you so much. But please… if you read this, please fight, for me. And come home._

"I'll fight, but I will never come back to you." He muttered to himself with clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. He tore the paper and crumpled it into a ball before tossing it overboard through the window. He did not even look at it as it fell from the heavens and to the earth. He breathed in deeply, biting back tears at the memory of the last time he ever laid eyes on his home- no, simply the place he was born was almost twelve years ago.

The ball.

The ladies all wearing extravagant dresses for the night, their smiles beautiful and their charms unique.

The gentlemen who showed their chivalry and respect, men in power.

The lovely food and lively music.

And the dreaded betrothal.

His thoughts wandered to the girl he had rejected. Was she alive and well? Married? _Hopefully married_ , he almost said out loud. _Hopefully married, no more hassles and I'm truly free. But I don't care about her, or my mother, or my father._

Propeller Knight unconsciously balled his hands into fists.

 _I'm never going back there. Home is where the heart is. My heart is with the skies._

"Captain? Are you alright?"

He put on a chipper smile and whipped around to flash his 'happy' face at the Hover Meanie before him. The Meanie twiddled his fingers and bit his lip as he spoke to the captain. Propeller Knight recognized the platinum blond hair and the violet eyes, and the Meanie's name immediately popped in his head.

"Ah, Pierre. I am alright."

"You were muttering to yourself earlier, you seemed angry. You threw away your mother's letter."

His smile immediately dropped. "Oh."

"I saw. I think I know why… you were engaged in marriage against your will. I remember."

"Sometimes I wonder why time passes by so fast. I was nineteen then. I am… so old now."

"But y-you look young and handsome!"

"I am still a bit old, but yes, _I_ _am very handsome_." He closed his eyes and chuckled mirthlessly. "Pierre. You were a soldier before. But you have an injury that almost crippled you. That was so long ago. But I helped!"

Pierre glanced down at his fake leg with a smile. "Yes…"

"I know all of you onboard. I know your names, your families… your dreams."

"We are your family, captain."

Propeller Knight held his arms open and wide. "Here's to my true family. Hug me!"

Pierre smiled, and accepted his embrace. He approached his captain and wrapped his arms around him. "Yes, here is a hug."

"Yay!"

"Ah, captain… when are we going home? Everyone… has been wondering when we can go home to France."

The captain's brows furrowed again, and he sighed out.

 _My crew needs me to be their captain… and I am obliged by my duty to bring them back home._

"Soon, Pierre. Soon."

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for volcano.**_

Mole Knight gave the littlest sick student one last warm hug and sweet smile. He pat the tiny teen's back gently and then tucked him to bed.

"Everything is alright. I'll check the lower level right when you get to sleep. If something goes wrong, I'll wake you up." The knight forced a wide smile on his face. He stroked the boy's hair and pulled the blanket up to his waist.

"But I've been hearing some rumbling sounds."

"It might just be us clearing some bedrock."

"But it's so near and it's going _gululugululu._ "

"Shh, it's fine. I'm here to protect you from any harm."

"Okay…"

"Now, go to sleep. I'll look into it. Good night."

The boy sighed, and then closed his eyes. Mole Knight tapped the little mole-shaped glowing lamp beside the bed, and the organisms inside started to glow once again. The bright light was blue, maybe a little green. He stood up and quietly walked to the door, claws clasped together.

As soon as he closed the door, he turned around only for lots of magic glitter to be thrown onto his face through his visor's holes. Unfortunately for Mole Knight, he had already breathed in, so his lungs had to take in lots of particulate and shimmering matter.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" A certain sorcerer held his hands up and did a futile attempt to hit the archaeologist's back.

Both of them were busy fussing and coughing to hear one of the students sit up and tiptoe towards the door.

/*after coughing out sparkling dust*/

"So… your name is Anart."

"Yup." The scraggy gentleman idly played with the vial full of water hanging around his neck, a grin plastered on his stubbly face. "That's me! Anart of the woods! I'm a gentleman, and I sell clothes!"

"Okay. My students are hearing lava bubbling up right below their room." Mole Knight spoke as the two of them descended down a flight of stairs. Anart raised a brow.

Both were not aware of a feeble figure following them in the shadows.

"I turn fire into water, not lava into water." He picked his nose, and then produced a long straight white wand out of his nostril. He smiled at it eerily while Mole Knight stared in shock. "But I can always try. I'm the greatest sorcerer in the world. Not even the Enchantress could-"

"That's not the point. Yes, before I start, I know this is a volcano we are in. And I _know_ that sorcery bends the fabric of time and space to its user's will. But you know that in nature, all things have a source."

"Yes, yes of course, but where's the awesome stuff?"

"Okay." Mole Knight sighed, and threw his entire speech detailing the laws of nature and the laws of magic in an imaginary trash can. "When we get down the stairs, the exciting part happens. But first, look at this." He then effortlessly punched the wall to his right. A hole formed without any pain on the knight's fist. He moved a little to let Anart see the sight below.

A peculiar pond of fire had formed, pinkish lava bubbling and shooting out purple-colored orbs. The odd lava was steadily but slowly rising, and Anart's already creepy smile widened even more. His eyes glowed a slight yellow and Mole Knight found himself briefly weighing his options to punch him or to run away, and regretting that he even contacted the nutjob in the first place.

" _Enchantress…_ "

"Anyway, if you look under it-"

" _I want to bathe in her blood…"_

"If you look under the lake," The archaeologist repeated with a more stressed and exasperated tone, "You'll find that it's not even connected to any magma chamber-"

" _I'll turn this into a lake of water…"_

Mole Knight sighed in vexation. " _It's not connected to a magma chamber_ , and there is something wrong. Do you know what is wrong?"

"The water is on fire and it's pink."

"No." Mole Knight shook his head patiently. "It's rising. Slowly. And it does not have a source of lava. There is an underlying problem here."

" _Magic._ "

"Exactly. I wasn't also expecting you to show up because you said you're trapped in the western woods."

"I found a workaround! I was able to steal so much money out of your groupmates and gave them to the resistance group, and isn't that nice? I got in a group on my own! Ahaha!"

"I highly doubt that."

"And I mean, I'm a gentleman trapped in a forest, all alone but with friends outside! It's more exciting than it looks like. And you know what else is exciting? _This!_ This is endlessly exciting! Her magic is here! I can feel it radiating in this cavern! _"_ Anart looked to the side and smiled at the tiny black figure with tiny pinprick eyes eyes that only he could see. "Can you feel it too?"

Mole Knight blinked at the sorcerer. "Huh. It's all okay, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Anart stretched his hand out towards the lake of fire. His hands glowed green and his smile grew even wider. Demonic voices in his head chanted and sang, and he laughed.

The peculiar lava bubbled violently as he recited his spell.

Mole Knight watched blankly as the lava violently reacted. Streams of fiery liquid shot out from the surface, and its color rapidly shifted from pink to purple to blue to green. Finally, the lava turned into the normal bright red and orange color. Anart whooped and jumped up and down in celebration, his face beaming.

"So… it's all good now?" Mole Knight raised a brow. _Am I right for trusting this guy?_

"Haha! I turned the magic lava into normal lava. So tell me, are you interested in buying some of my silken coats?"

"I supp-"

 _Rumble…_

The knight and the mage exchanged puzzled glances.

The lake of lava bubbled violently and a stream of fire erupted from it. The flare was colored deep purple and it shot out in midair, going straight for the hidden boy that watched from the shadows.

The student let out a terrified scream as the unholy fire flew straight towards him. Anart's smile disappeared as he saw his nemesis' magic failsafe attack the young, innocent boy.

Poor Mole Knight froze on the spot, horrified at the sight of the _Enchantress_ willingly attacking a child. The image of the horrified student, eyes wide and body frozen in hear, was burned into the knight's mind. So many thoughts raced in his head, only to be interrupted by a second shower of sparkles.

"Enchantress! You're not harming a potential sorcerer!" Anart's permanent smirk as replaced with a dark scowl.

A wand had appeared in the mage's hand, ribbons of bright green magic coming out of its tip and swirling around the orb of darkness. The orb became encased in his spell, until it faded away eventually into thin air. Anart glanced over to the shocked Mole Knight, and cackled.

"Well, phew. That was a bit hard to do, but didn't I look awesome?"

"Erm, okay, yeah." He approached the student slowly. "Are you alright?"

The student inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, then nodded. "Yes."

"That's good." Mole Knight smiled under his visor.

"Is that the thing going _gulugulugulu_?" The young student pointed at the lava.

"Yeah." Mole Knight's shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry for lying to you. I just didn't want you to worry."

"It's okay. I understand."

"You must be a perspective child, aren't you?" Mole Knight chuckled and lifted his giant hand to gently pat the frail kid on the back.

"Okay, so, little one, you want to be a sorcerer one day?" Anart grinned.

The student stepped backwards and hid behind the stout form of the knight-anthropologist, shaking his head as hard as he could.

"Okay, so, you want to buy clothes from me? For free? I'll also make the _gulugulugulu lava_ shit go away, for the price of free! Well, I already did it. So, you have all these services, no interest, no payment at all-"

Some force slapped him on the butt. His happy grin was immediately replaced with a surprised scowl, and he angrily turned around to shoot whatever thing that was with his water-powered magic. But there was nothing, and he was wrapped in ribbons of green and violet flame. The bands of fire engulfed him while he screamed in agony.

Mole Knight thought quickly, and turned to the child. "Run up. Tell the Mole Minion to bring us water!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **V is for villain.**_

"You disappoint me."

Specter Knight closed his eyes, and told himself that the pain would start soon, but his rebellion also begins anew.

"Why have you always been so defiant to the power I possess?" She sneered at the apparition. "You are already my knight. I wonder why you still resist me."

He refused to look at her, clenching his shrivelled fist.

"You pretend to be alive and mingle with the living. You are in an Order of ruthless knights, and whenever you can, you still show mercy. The _entire_ Order of No Quarter disappoints me by their small acts of mercy, but _you_ disappoint me the most. I _revived_ you, and _gave_ you untold power. You formed this Order, and you as a role model have failed. Perhaps this is why all my knights are incompetent and have plans to foil me, because _you_ are this way. Perhaps this is why Shovel Knight is trespassing my Tower!"

"I never joined. You bound me to it." He finally spoke up, his voice dripping with the venom of his pent-up pain and fury. "My loyalty was never to you. My loyalty has always been to myself, and myself only."

"Fool!" The purple flames lighting her hall flared up in her rage. "You _dare?_ You dare question the power I wield?"

"Yes. I do. I dare fight you again." Specter Knight clutched his scythe. "I dare call upon my true power and expunge you from this sacred earth, you vile demoness!"

"What stops you from being a demon? You have spilled blood, Specter Knight. You have killed so many people, and you are deserving of such a title."

"I still have my humanity. I am not a demon. You have wiped out the soul of the knight you possess. And you deserve to be banished back to hell."

She snarled at him, before pausing all of a sudden. He watched with furrowed brows, fearing what may happen next. She hovered upwards, looking up at the sky with a twisted soft smile.

"You know, Specter Knight, you may just be one of the kinds of demons that need a little more… _hand holding._ Let me show you how it is to be powerful."

 _ **Up next: W is for- wait, what the actual fuck just happened and why are the knights women now?!**_

 _Translations:_

 _Viens te battre avec moi si tu cherches un défi en ce jour monotone. - Come and fight me if you're searching for a challenge on this boring day._

 _Je ne renoncerais jamais une confrontation en duel mon ami - I'll never turn down a duel, my friend._


	23. W is for Wandering Knights

_Hello hello! Part of W would not have been possible without Lyxent! Lyxent helped me out a LOT with W is for wings. I wasn't exactly in the best mood while I was writing so I got help!_

 _And thank you for waiting more than two months. I'm in the darkest part of my life and still feeling severely depressed._

 _Also, some of the ideas here are inspired by crazy chats with Spincontroller, Channel, Biovyx, and Neo Yi. Blame them for some of the weird stuff._

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for wisp.**_

"Juicy little wispy, hee hee hee!" Plague Knight giggled as he held out a tiny spoon of warm milk.

Specter Knight, somehow smaller in size and held down by cuffs on the table, growled and pouted under his visor. "No."

The rest of the Order of No Quarter except for Polar Knight let out an 'awww'. Their little baby boy was being very cute. Of course, the reaper was not happy.

Little acts of revenge against the one that forced the knights in this dark, evil, and moody Order of No Quarter brought the best feelings for the majority. As for King Knight, he just simply enjoyed tormenting people.

"Come on, _petit choupinou_! Wispy wisp! Very healthy for you!" "Just drink your fucking milk." "Language! We can't let the baby learn such curses!" "Hee hee, little baby boy!" "An infant Specter Knight doesn't seem so bad. Let me take some notes." "Hah! The ghost is a child!"

"Please leave me alone." Specter Knight half-begged, half-ordered.

He stared at the rest of the order of ruthless knights, who paused for a moment, before breaking out in a tirade of "cute baby boy awww" for the umpteenth time.

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for wind.**_

" _Albrecht!" the young captain called out to his new crew member, twirling around on the ball of his foot. His hair flew freely in the wind. "I have something to show you!"_

 _The German raised his brow and awkwardly walked to his new friend. Propeller Knight was grinning widely, his smile full of mischief._

" _Yes,_ Herr _?"_

" _Look at me!" The captain dashed to the railing on the deck and stepped over. Albrecht grew alarmed as he stood at the edge of the deck, with nothing to catch him._

" _No, do not ju-"_

" _Whee!" Propeller Knight let go of the railing and let himself fall. His scream as he fell was not of terror, but of pure carefree attitude. The new Hoverhaft gasped and sprinted to the edge to look where his captain had fallen._

 _Only for said captain to fly back up in a gust of strong wing, shocking him so much that he fell backwards. Propeller Knight gracefully landed on the floor a few steps from Albrecht, a content smile on his face._

" _Was that magnificent,_ mon ami?"

" _Zhat vas… please don't do zhat…"_

" _It's my own little way of welcoming newcomers!" He laughed as he pulled the German back up on his feet and led him to the railings again. He leaned his arms on the rail, savoring the air that made his hair fly. "Of course, I don't victimize zhose wizh problems of being surprised as a joke. I do a little background study."_

" _I zhought you vere dead!"_

"Ouais. _I know. But you should know, we are high above zhe land. And you must learn to ride wind as soon as possible! You can do it! Nothing is impossible!"_

 _Albrecht raised his brow at his sickeningly sweet and optimistic boss. "Vhat?"_

" _Ride ze wind!"_

" _I don't understand."_

 _He briefly held his friend's hand, and closed his eyes. "Just enjoy. The sky is free."_

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for what the fuck.**_

 _His furious eyes were set on the happy bunny rabbit currently sheltered in the arms of a blue Hoverhaft. The smug bunny snuggled in his second-in-command's arms, its tail twitching a bit and its ears flopped downwards in contentment. Albrecht enjoyed petting its head, still resembling Propeller Knight's helmet._

" _What do we do with one of our members apparently turned into a rabbit?" Mole Knight sang. He belted out his sentence like he was in an opera. He was somehow attempting to sing a lead soprano part in the aria that is King Knight's dream._

" _Well, hee, we could still ask him stuff. Can I pet you?" Plague Knight, now apparently an oversized crow stuck on top of a spinning stick, hopped over to the bunny and reached his right hand out to pet him. Its ears whirred like propellers and almost shredded the bird's hand off. Plague Knight yelped and retreated._

 _King Knight, still with a bit of sense in his dream, looked around and observed the dinner hall. The room's candles and lamps glowed orange instead of violet. He was seated on the right side, and everyone was seated in reverse order. Propeller Knight was a bunny. Specter Knight was absent. Polar Knight was eating ramen. Mole Knight looked normal except that he was singing everything he says in a rich tenor or even alto voice. Plague Knight was just weird. Tinker Knight was sitting on the table, munching on a sandwich and not paying attention to the happenings around him. Treasure Knight's helmet was off and he was happily eating a chicken leg-_

Wait just a moment, _the usurper narrowed his eyes and thought hard to himself,_ things are always purple, and that phantom bastard is never absent. I'm supposed to be sitting on the left. Treasure Knight doesn't take his helmet off like ever, only lifts it up. Polar Knight never ate anything other than turkey, at least from what I've seen. Tinker Knight always pays attention. Plague Knight doesn't look like that. Mole Knight has a nice voice but he's never showing it off. And that French bedswerver isn't a bunny! Why is everyone so weird? Am I weird? What is weird? What defines the border between normal and weird? Who defines social constructs? Is there a universal truth? What is life? What is the purpose of life? Where is my roast turkey and wine?

 _Suddenly there was a lightning strike, and two warriors appeared. King Knight glared at them._

" _Perhaps we may be of help?" Phantom Striker brandished his cape around, not minding that the spikes on his helmet were replaced by carrots._

 _Reize, still looking normal but with his daredevil persona suddenly gone, looked around cautiously and wide-eyed. "Striker, I don't think we should be here."_

" _We are required to be here, young warrior."_

" _But I get nightmares from this place!"_

 _The bunny somehow yipped happily, and everyone awwed in adoration of the bunny rabbit. Propeller Bunny hopped off Albrecht's arms, binkied to the end of the table, and took off. Its ears spun around rapidly and flew straight to Carrot Striker._

" _Ah, bunny rabbit." Carrot Striker chuckled to himself and bowed his head to let Propeller Bunny land on his carrot farm of a helmet. The bunny grabbed onto a carrot and started nibbling on it, its ears perked up in joy. Striker reached up a hand to ruffle its fur. King Knight's anger simmered._

 _Reize squeed. "Cute! Can I pet you-"_

 _King Knight banged his fist on the table, stood up, and pointed an angry finger to the rabbit. "I hate that bunny!"_

 _Everyone gasped. Even the normally unflappable Polar Knight brought a giant hand up over his chest in pure shock._

 _Reize's lips quivered. "B-but he's cute…"_

" _No!" King Knight stumbled forward, his feet tripping on his long cape. He stood up as quickly as he could, his hands held out like claws. The bunny yelped in fear and hopped to Reize's head, burrowing under his thick wild hair. Carrot Striker pulled Reize back and pushed him around._

 _In short, the three idiots ran around in a wild goose chase around the table. And the bunny was crying again. King Knight was able to grab the bunny's ears and prevent it from spinning. Reize also yelped because some strands of hair were yanked out._

 _The monarch glared right into the bunny's terrified eyes. "You think I would let you go after rubbing in my face about how rich and noble you are?"_

 _A hard object hit his back. The pretender monarch looked behind at the grave offender with the worst scowl he could manage, but his fury dissipated when he met the crimson red gaze of a black and red terror staring back at him. The Hoverhaft's propellers turned into pitch black wings, spread out behind him. Albrecht glared at him, a broken chair in one hand._

 _Without any kind of verbal warning, lightning struck the pretender king._

"ARGH! What the _fuck?!"_

Everyone in the Order turned their heads to look at their panicking teammate. The monarch was sweating profusely.

"Welcome back from la la land, hee." Plague Knight, now with a feminine voice and a witch hat, chuckled. "You look great in your gown, by the way. Mona thinks it's fashionable, for once. Hee."

The monarch looked down, eyes wide at her red and gold gown. "WAIT, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for woman.**_

Plague Knight rolled her eyes. "Yes, your Majesty, you're a queen now. Everyone is a girl. We're having a meeting about this. You know our leader? He's a dude now. Hee."

"I didn't fucking notice until now!"

Plague Knight dropped her happy act and banged her left fist on the table. "Why did you come to this meeting, then?"

"Fuck it, I'm going back to sleep. This is all just weird dream. Like that fucking bunny and that carrot man."

The rest of the Order of No Quarter, now all female, watched as Queen Knight put her head back on her arms and slip back into slumber.

/*earlier that morning, Explodatorium*/

"Mona?"

Mona looked down, puzzlement written all over her face. The little alchemist was a bit smaller, with a feminine voice. She almost squeed at the cute hat attached to the hood, if it weren't for the concerned gaze Plague Knight had.

"Mona, did an accident happen last night? With the gender swap potions?"

"As far as I know... no?"

"Huh. Someone probably entered my room and dropped a vat of it on me. And I didn't notice."

"But your door's always locked."

Plague Knight blinked. "... shit." She bomb bursted up to the top of the stack of books they always had stocked in the building. A giant primed bomb materialized in her hand and she threw it up, letting clusters upon clusters detonate in midair. All Plague Minions yelped and turned their undivided attention to their boss.

"Which one of you broke in my room?!"

/*Hat Shop*/

"... dad?" Reize muttered, sitting up. "Dad? Wait, what? I sound like a girl! What's ha-"

"Oooh, you're a girl!" Baz came in. Reize squinted at the large, rope-swinging warrior, who turned into a bulky, muscular woman. "You look great!"

"You look fine! Although a hat would make you look better." A familiar person, clothed in a long black gown with feathers sewn on the high collar, patted the young girl's head. "Something yellow will suit you."

"Woah, I'm a girl!" Reize laughed along, and stood up. "Hurry! The mirror!"

"Right there! Reize, you look so much like yourself!" Baz cheered on with a goofy smile.

"Baz, you look awesome! As always!"

"You look cool, too!"

"Aww, you're cool."

"No, you're cool."

"No, you."

"Just look right there to see who's the coolest." She turned the smaller girl's head to the mirror with a big smile.

The warrior-in-training faced the full-body mirror and giggled at her own reflection. "Well, maybe the hair should be a little messier."

"And maybe you can stop wearing your bandanna." The hatter pursed her lips. "I don't know, but it looks good."

"Fashion really is your forte, no?" Baz elbowed the older lady.

"Yes. You are a fashion disaster, Baz. Too much spikes! And that makeup!"

"Hey guys, I want messier hair." Reize pouted, her lips quivering and her puppy eyes demanding attention.

"I'll do that for you, little kid." Baz put her giant hands on her younger teammate's hard and started to ruffle it so hard. All of them laughed.

"You, too?" A low feminine voice called out. It had a supernatural reverb to it. All of the chortling Travellers stopped and turned to Phantom Striker, also turned female. Her arms were crossed. Her spikes were a bit smaller, and her blue cape was fashioned into a blue skirt.

"You, too?" Both Baz and Reize chorused together.

"I was merely puzzled. I thought the change to my body was limited to myself. I am genderless, after all… and I have become a woman many times in the past."

"Woah! You're genderless?" Reize gasped. "Striker, you're so, so cool."

"Heh." The stormbringer shrugged. "I am a child borne of man and lightning. I am an anomaly in this world, yet I continue to survive."

"You're too awesome to die."

"I am born, I live, and someday, I will die."

"You're so pessimistic." Lady Hat commented and then shrugged. "Hey, check yourself out. You look nice. Although… I have a problem."

Phantom Striker raised a brow. "Yes?"

"I miss your cape."

"Ah." The blitzy fencer looked aside. "Well, part of why I prefer my masculine appearance is the cape. It looks more intimidating."

"Well, we are enjoying being girls. You... enjoy being a girl?" Baz shrugged, glancing awkwardly to Reize.

Phantom Striker paused to think for a long moment. She went silent for a time. "They say I resemble my mother in all of my forms… I love my mother very much… therefore… I enjoy this appearance as well."

"Well, maybe you also look like your mom in your woman form?" Reize tilted her head, brows up.

"I… have never seen myself in a mirror. Perhaps I do look like her."

"Well, there's a mirror there. I bet you look beautiful." Lady Hat blushed and smiled.

"Thank you. My mother is the most alluring woman in the world and I resemble her. I shall let her know you think she is stunning."

"Hey, by the way!" Baz wedged herself in, interrupting the heartfelt moment. "Why don't you turn the skirt into a cape? So you look more awesome and more like the Striker we know?"

"Ah, I agree. I shall remove my skirt." Phantom Striker dug her thumbs in the waistband of her skirt and then slightly pushed it down.

"No!" "Oh gods!" "Reize! Close your eyes!"

Striker halted, her waistband only tugged a bit downwards. "What is wrong? I have done this before. Why do you protest?"

"You don't undress in the presence of others!" Lady Hat grabbed her socially inept teammate's shoulders and maneuvered her to the fitting room.

"I... how do healers survey the bodies of their patients to make sure they are well? How do referees judge that a game is fair without stripping the participants of their garbs and gear? How do people join together in love and for the creation of new-"

"Social etiquette of normal people in the modern times, Striker." Lady Hat shoved her into the fitting room and pulled the curtains together.

"This… is not enjoyable. I wish to return to my mother."

/*Flying Machine*/

Propeller Knight hasn't gotten outside of his quarters for so long. It was noontime. Everyone was worried. Hoverhafts were whispering. Hover Meanies were already trying to peek in the windows but the curtains were drawn together.

But the galley crew already sent up his breakfast… and the graceful captain got it.

What was happening?

Albrecht knocked, and tapped his foot on the floor. He placed his halberd against the door and crossed his arms.

"Mhm. Amazing." A low feminine voice chuckled.

His ears perked up, and the alarm bells in his head clanging so loud. That low voice was a _woman!_ Unforgivable! _And no one knew about this affair?_ _I will kill both of them!_

Albrecht balled his fists, sexual images flashing in his mind. His eyes burned with blue fire as he pulled his helmet off and threw it aside.

 _That idiot never even said he would spend so long with a woman in bed, dammit!_

Without even thinking of his friend's privacy, he kicked the door open, destroying the newly installed hinge and doorknob in the process, and marched in with the most furious face he could muster. The hook of his halberd was ready to hold some poor woman's neck, haul her out of the captain's quarters, and hurl her overboard. And his angry speech was already prepared for some poor naked captain who would hide under the blankets and cry. And maybe some rope to dangle him off the edge of the ship.

But to his surprise, there was only one person inside.

The person was a woman standing in front of a full-body mirror, her soft hair long and brown, like the captain's. She was clothed only in a green towel wrapped around her torso.

"Oh, _bonjour,_ Albrecht!" She turned and held her arms out to him with a chipper smile.

The German only pointed his blade at her. "Vhere is zhe captain? _Vhere is he_?"

"Albrecht! "I'm your captain! It's me! _Ce n'est qu'un changement d'apparence! J'ai des attributs féminins et j'en profite!"_

"Nonsense, intruder! Impostor! You're even a girl as far as I can see! _Do you zhink you can fool me?_ Propeller Knight zertainly does NOT haff zhat bust size! Nor those smooth legs!" He shrieked at her, his accent thickening with every word. "Don't eefen try to zay you are my captain because I am sure he-"

"Would you believe me if I said I woke up like this?" The mysterious woman narrowed her eyes.

"No."

"Come on. I can prove it to you! I love everyone in this ship!"

"Zhen tell me what you got for me for my birzhday."

"I made you a bunny toy!" She chuckled, looking up thoughtfully. "A bunny toy that you thought was a real bunny! And then after I gave you that bunny, we spent a _lovely_ morning together under-"

Albrecht interrupted her with a laugh. "Propeller Knight. It is you, and-"

" _Oui_."She smacked her lips, wiggled her hips, and let her fingers glide over her thighs. " _Qu'en penses tu? Je suis plutôt s_ _éduisant non?"_

Her seductive words flew right over the Hoverhaft's head. "Huh… vhat?"

"In English," she drew out the last vowel and walked towards him, "what do you think? I am quite seducing, don't you think?" She gestured to her hourglass figure, and then he kept his gaze fixed on her eyes.

 _Bad idea._

"I-I guess..." He replied as flatly as he could. She laughed, and sauntered toward her best friend to tease him more. She ghosted her hand over his chin, and then grabbed it.

"Admit it. I'm absolutely _beautiful!"_

"No."

"I'm not beautiful?"

" _Doch..._ "

"Then what am I?"

"JUST PUT ON SOME CLOZHES!"

"No need to yell at your captain like that!" She stood up and walked to the folding screen. She flung her towel, and it landed right on Albrecht's head. He paused before noting the floral scent on the fabric.

"Hey-!"

"And don't you dare look!"

"You zhink I'm a _pervert?"_

"Well, yes! I know you! And don't even get me started on the secret book stash I found under our table in the library!"

Albrecht laughed. "You really are Propeller Knight. _Käsekuchen,_ you did worry the crew so much-"

"Who do you think I am, you idiot potato? _Patate!_ _You are the dumbest potato I've ever met in my life!"_

/*Stranded Ship*/

Polar Knight looked down and examined herself with a blank expression. Her body had become female overnight, and there was one pressing problem.

"Clothes." She grumbled. She grabbed her blanket and tied its ends together to cover her body properly, making sure she could move around comfortably. The old knight looked down, tilted her head to the right, and began wiggling a bit to see if her work was alright enough.

"Sir- Ma'am," The Tundread corrected himself upon seeing his boss, turned around on his heel, and leaned on the doorway, "I have a report."

"Go on. I only need to sew a new set of clothes."

"I suggest something. A big cape may work, ma'am. Something white, with cords like braids around your neck."

"Thank you for your suggestions, Tundread." Polar Knight sat down on her chair and pulled out the drawer containing cloth, thread, and needles. She began to insert brown thread in the eye of the needle. "What is your report?"

"Shovel Knight has also been turned into a woman."

Polar Knight looked up from her needle and thread with narrowed eyes and an open mouth. She raised a thick brow. The Tundread shrugged, cleared his throat, fished out a piece of paper, and then handed it to her.

 _Dear Polar Knight,_

 _Hi._

 _It's been a while. No puns today. I have an emergency. Help me. I'm a woman now. Shield Knight never told me what to do if ever this happens. Maybe you know what to do. Should I worry about anything? Black Knight isn't helping me. He- scratch that, I mean, she is very uncooperative and looks so much more intimidating than before._

 _Thanks. Help me, please._

 _Sincerely yours, Shovel Knight._

"Is Shovel Knight here?"

"Indeed. She is currently halfway and defeating the other guards."

Polar Knight hummed. "Can you tell Shovel Knight I am still making clothes?"

"Much obliged, ma'am."

/*Iron Whale*/

Treasure Knight looked at her new outfit. Her diver's suit was replaced with a diver's coat. She chuckled and faced the Gulper Mage floating beside her.

"Wrrh. Lrrk rrt thrrs. Rr lrrk grrd!"

"Uh… I can't understand you, captain." The Gulper Mage sheepishly said. She shrugged. "Sorry."

Treasure Knight looked at the mage. "Whhrrt?"

"I can't understand you. What are you saying?"

"Whrrt rr yrr srrying? Crrn yrr reprrt thrrt?"

"You should take the helmet off."

"Hrrh?"

"Take the helmet off!"

"Hrrh?"

"Helmet. Off."

Treasure Knight squinted her eyes at her. "Whrrt?"

/*Lost City*/

Mole Knight adjusted her armor to write on the scroll of paper.

"The Attitudes of Pridemoor Valley Society Towards Women Warriors." The knight-anthropologist jotted down on the paper. "It is… known… that many legendary women… have become knights. For a time, my archival research shows that the entire valley was ruled by a powerful woman from the far east… and she was a sorceress who has guardians made of water… and magics of flame. According to texts in this Lost City, written by scribes named-"

"Hi, Mole Knight." One of the students waddled up to her. He adjusted his glasses and stared at her armor. "I heard boys became girls and girls became boys! And… you look… umm…"

"I know I look somehow atrocious. I am a bad designer."

"Aww, Mole Knight… it's okay. You're still the same Mole Knight I know. I love you!"

Mole Knight grinned so widely.

/*Clockwork Tower*/

"Umm… Tinker Knight?" The Cogslotter shyly spoke up from behind the blueprints of the Destroyer.

"What?!" She pulled up her welding mask.

"You… are aware you're a girl now, right?"

"Yes! Don't ask that now! I have work to do! Just hold those prints up!"

"Uhh, and the Order of No Quarter are all girls now-"

" _Do you think I care?!"_

/*Lich Yard*/

Specter Knight rose from the dead.

 _Actually…_ Specter Knight groggily got up from under a mountain of small white pillows and two thick quilts. Reapers required rest. This particular reaper needed a good week's sleep and the warmth of two dozen pillows because no one would be friends with a self-loathing but drop-dead gorgeous ghost.

The apparition's eyes looked up at the slightly brighter sky. It was still dark, but it was a shade of deep blue typically there minutes before sunrise. Groaning, Specter Knight grabbed a random pillow and pressed it tightly against-

 _What on earth is on my chest?_

She put the pillow down and stared at her bust. Panic filled her mind as her trembling hands slowly went up to poke her chest.

 _Poke._

She gasped in terror.

 _Grab. Squeeze._

She stared at her own body with a completely frightened expression. She hastily threw her blanket to cover her head and face while she screamed the only name she knew she could call upon in times of the most urgent of emergencies, like an episode of severe depression, or a realization that Specter Knight became a woman during her sleep.

" _MITZI!"_

The ghost maiden materialized in her room in a swirl of white, a scowl on her face and her rusty sword at the ready. Mitzi screeched, swung the heavy two-handed weapon, and because of the sword's weight, fell down the floor with a thud. Normally, Specter Knight would have criticized her and admonished her for being weak, but the apparition was too busy being hysterical over having a woman's body. And it all happened sometime while she was off in her ideal world of happiness, rainbows, sunshine, a spouse, and a farm.

"Mitzi!" Specter Knight cried out. "Mitzi, please!"

"Wait. Master, is that you?"

"It is _me_! Help me! Help me!"

"With what?"

" _I have boobs!"_

The ghost girl gawked at her master's last uttered word. _That wasn't something Specter Knight would say out loud like that._ Poor girl never dealt with her master completely losing it, except those times he was called a Banana Knight, a baby boy, and a cat-

"Mitzi! Help me, help me, please! I am now a female, I cannot function being a woman!"

"Master, Master! It's okay! I can help you!" She dropped her sword and sat on the bed to try and calm down the quivering spook.

"But you are only sixteen!" She screeched. "How can a-"

"Master, listen to me! You're not going to die!"

"My entire world is falling apart, servant!" Specter Knight wailed, grabbing all the pillows she could reach just to tightly embrace them. "The last time I felt that the the world is ending and everything is crumbling, I was mere moments before dying! I am going to suffer a second death! I know this already!"

"Master, no! Please listen to me! This might just be a spell gone awry. You know this, right?"

Specter Knight closed her eyes, buried her face in a pillow, and whimpered.

"Maybe it's just a test of your worth or something. And you're cool. You got this, master. You're awesome." Mitzi laughed nervously as she continued to feed her master's ego. "You can get through the hardships. I can help you with adjusting until we find a way to get back to your former self."

More sobbing. "My former self was alive, Mitzi! I used up most of my power and I was lured to sell my soul and I am forever bound to a loveless and hopeless eternity!"

"Master, ssh… okay. How about we learn about this new problem? Like you always do?"

She lifted her head off the pillow. "Learn…?"

"Yes." She beamed inwardly. _Wow, calming down the second most-feared person in the land is a nice job to have. Comes with a lifetime employment, too!_ "You always scouted and stalked your enemies to know more about them, right?"

"Of course. What kind of idiot oak barrel would go into war uninformed?"

"Why don't we learn the differences between a male body and a female body for you? So you can adjust."

Specter Knight paused for a long moment before nodding.

"Good. Okay, so first, you have those." She pointed at her bust. "They're squishy and soft when you use your human appearance. You have to properly handle them."

"Yes, I will do as you advise."

"Next, you might notice yourself a little smaller than before."

Specter Knight nodded obediently.

"You might want to change costume for a while. You like to look cool, yeah? I'm thinking of a big, balloony skirt, with bones as your crinoline!"

"That would be good."

"And then we can decorate your skirt. Your sleeves can extend-"

The apparition began to shake again.

The ghost girl patted the reaper's shoulder. "No worries, master. The only difference is something in your anatomy. There's nothing to be afraid of, ma-"

And in a flash, Specter Knight was back in her frenzied terror. She started to wail again.

Mitzi gaped at the apparition. _For someone who can obliterate entire armies, Master doesn't know this? it's really stupid of me to expect Specter Knight to know anything about women. Literally anything about their psyche and bodies._

"Gods have mercy, please, I would rather be a banana!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for walk.**_

The rivalry between Propeller Knight and King Knight did not just involve the two fancy knights duking it out with fashion and insults. It involved their subordinates as well.

"My captain is better than your king!"

"Our king possesses the wealth of a kingdom!"

"And what's your kingdom to the French Empire? Our captain will inherit ownership and rule of land ten times bigger than the entirety of Pridemoor!"

The Goldarmor hissed. He was losing to the young Hover Meanie.

"Well, we are a kingdom and we can go to straight to the French king!"

"Oh no, our captain _totally_ hasn't met him before!" The Hover Meanie stuck his tongue out to the angered metal can. "Our captain is the best master in the world!"

"Well, you're just arrogant people! Two hits and you have to go to the sick bay! I have armor, a sword, and a shield with me!"

"Walking is for losers! We can fly and avoid attacks!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for write.**_

Mitzi knew something was off when her master's hood was pulled off and his visor up. She could still see his human eyes in the cloak of shadow covering his handsome face. There was a pouch hanging on his left hip.

Something bad had happened. Of course… he was defeated by the tiny blue knight with a weird shovel. The Enchantress… wasn't nice to her master at all.

"It hurts." The apparition spoke softly, rubbing the back of his clenched left hand. Mitzi had a glimpse of his hand, and found the telltale sign of his entire hand and wrist turned into an unnatural and bright white color. It shone in contrast with his pitch black form.

She gulped. The last time she dealt with this was a time ago, when the Enchantress shot him with the enemy's light wands. The first time was a few weeks ago, when Five, the poor lady dying in the dungeons, landed a hit.

And Specter Knight had been in hellish pain all the while.

"What… happened to you, master?" The young ghost girl gasped, taking Specter Knight's hand into her own hands, looking back up at him with worried eyes. He avoided her gaze.

"Punishment." He murmured to her.

"For what now?"

He refused to speak. His stare was fixed a thousand yards away.

She enveloped his discolored hand with her chilled palms, and gently led him to the nearest pond of evil water. He simply floated along with her, not uttering a thing. She sighed, and simply pulled him along.

Normally, he would have snapped at her to stop holding his hand.

But he just… wasn't talking at all. He usually couldn't afford to be seen holding a _girl_ by the hand.

When they reached the pond, she motioned for him to sit. Mitzi watched as Specter Knight wordlessly descended to the ground, folded his knees up, and sat down on the red ground. She gently put his injured hand into the cursed undead water.

He hissed in pain as the cold water made contact with his hand. It bubbled in response to the light. Mitzi pursed her lips when he started choking back his cries and his healthy hand began to claw at the ground. She swore she could see tears on his face, although the shadows clouding it made it all hidden.

"Just a small prick, master. Please stay strong."

"It burns. It burns… I will burn in hell..."

"No… you have good in you."

He turned his head away from her.

She sighed, and watched as his hand gradually turn back into its normal color. When she tapped his shoulder to tell him his hand was alright, he only withdrew it from the water and stared down at the bubbles.

There was a long and uneventful pause.

Specter Knight rose from the ground without a word, and floated away. Mitzi hurriedly stood up and followed him close behind.

Normally, he would have scolded her to stop following her. He couldn't afford to show anyone he cared.

But he was just not minding her presence.

He entered his secret quarters, and then sat on the bed. He didn't seem to mind Mitzi's presence in the room. He turned his back on her, brought his legs up on the mattress, and hugged his knees.

The ghost girl turned to his desk and saw a piece of paper. There was a quill and an ink bowl resting on top of the paper, and then out of curiosity she approached to read it.

 _As you are, I was. As I am, you will be._

 _Sometimes I long for something to rewind time. To just have accepted my would-be death. To have never gotten down the path of anger and childish impulsiveness. I was a fool. It has given me nothing but shame and a special hell reserved for me, the vilest creature on earth. The dance of death is my being._

 _The beautiful world..._

 _Sometimes I wish that fate is not cruel. Life was lovely. It had been filled with smiles and laughter. It twinkled with the dreams I had. It had been overflowing with passion and love. I was at the top of the world._

 _The sorrowful world..._

 _How was it… that my soul would be bent and broken and hastily put together to become who I am now? Why is it that my entry into the unknown would be like this? Why did I have such a pathetic fate…_

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for warbled.**_

"What do you mean their speech is not understandable?" Specter Knight raised his brows at Mole Knight, who gawked at the former with an equally confused expression.

"The Liquid Samurai speak in either a warbled voice or in Japanese, Specter Knight!" The anthropologist's voice almost cracked in protest.

"What do you mean? I talk to them almost every other day!" The apparition grabbed a passing blue samurai, and plopped it between them. The blue liquid person stared up at them with inquisitive pinprick eyes.

"Hrrh?" The Ao samurai sat down, wondering if it should turn into a blob and seep away through the cracks or to stay and entertain these weird warriors.

Specter Knight knelt down. "What is your name?"

"Ao!" It cheerfully answered.

"Did you sleep well?"

" _Hai!_ Ahhh! _Hai!_ "

"That is good." He reached out to pat the samurai's head. Specter Knight faced his teammate again, whose jaw was on the floor. "Speak not of this gesture to anyone."

"Sure, sure." Mole Knight shrugged. "Stays between us. No problem. Wow."

"Alright. Now, little Ao, what kind of advice would you give to a person who is not lightweight but wishes to run as fast as you can?"

The little samurai quieted for a moment, before letting loose a string of garbled words. Mole Knight gaped at Specter Knight, who seemed to understand every single word of gibberish. It passionately detailed things like rockets and magic, decorating its speech with wild arm gestures.

"Ah, so one has to attach a rocket to his feet?" Specter asked afterwards.

It replied, this time stomping its foot in annoyance.

"Ah, and with magic?"

It nodded.

Specter Knight snickered, then faced the anthropologist again. "See? I understood."

Mole Knight almost clawed his eyes out. "Then dear gods, why didn't you tell me soon enough? I could have had an easier time conducting ethnographies on them with you as a translator!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for Wandering Travellers.**_

Once upon a time, there was a group of knights that came together. They were called the Wandering Travellers.

And they travelled the world, always ready for battle.

Well… not really always ready. Sometimes two of them would jump in battle without consulting the rest of the squad.

"We can't win this fight, Hat! Striker, dammit, don't encourage fights!" Baz bellowed at the attacking and outnumbered mad hatter. Mister Hat and Phantom Striker were currently up against nine rogue warriors who happened to have a lot of peculiar and useful hats and a lot of team-based skill in battle.

"Come on! There are nine of them and only four of us!" Reize reasoned out. "Please just stay away from them! Gods, even their healer is a vicious killer!"

"But… HATS!"

"I must fight! Worthy opponents!"

"Oh yacht gods, save us." Baz and Reize chorused together.

/*another day, in a random garden*/

"Striker. What are you doing in this poor man's lawn?" Baz looked at his teammate. Beside him was a terrified man and his wife.

Well, what would someone do if they suddenly found a man with a weird and damaged helmet buried all the way up to his neck in his carrot farm?

Phantom Striker did not respond. His head was unmoving.

"Oh no, what happened to him?" Reize knelt down to touch the broken spikes on his helmet. "He looks like he's recharging. Something might have happened to him in his nature stroll. I mean, look at all his broken spikes! There are only two whole spikes left!"

Baz turned to the couple beside him. "Did you see him at all?"

"No! I just woke up this morning and there that guy is!" The man pointed a finger.

"Maybe we should leave him behind first?" The woman shrugged. "If what the kid says is true…"

"Can we stay here? Just in case he's back up." Baz politely asked with a big smile. The man happily ushered them in.

"Does he always do that, though?" The carrot farmer raised a brow.

"Yeah, he recharges. His mom grounded him since he's very tired, and his mom has quite the high expectations so..." Reize explained with a smile and a shrug.

Baz stared at him with a puzzled look.

"Um… he explained it to me."

"No. _Grounded_."

Reize blinked.

"Get it?"

"Ahh! Oh gods, haha!"

/*later*/

Phantom Striker walked into the couple's house, looking as if he clawed his way out of the ground. His entire body was covered in damp loamy soil. His white garb was now brown and his helmet…

"Holy ship!" Reize and Baz stared at their enigmatic and awesome teammate with a silly helmet. All of his spikes except for two had been replaced with large orange carrots. The two burst into laughter, leaning on each other as their stomachs started to hurt from the chortling.

"Why are you laughing?" The stormbringer asked, genuinely unaware of the carrots sticking out of his helmet.

/*Village*/

The Bard arrived, a puggle following him happily. The musician was pushing along an odd wheelbarrow with a box on it.

"Ice cream and popsicles! Ice cream for sale!" He called out. "I need some income and god damn, no one is paying me to make music, so I'm selling this stuff."

"Ice cream!" Reize bounced up and dashed to the Bard, who stopped. Phantom Striker chuckled softly to himself, then stood up to follow the young warrior. Reize took a good look at the white box. "What's ice cream?"

"Just taste it. Twenty gold." He got out one orange popsicle and handed it to his customer.

"How do I eat this cold treat?"

"Lick it and sometimes bite."

Reize licked the popsicle. The next moment, he let out a satisfied hum. "Mmm! Delicious!"

"Yep. Came from my world. Best ice cream ever."

"I don't have any gold, though…" Reize stuck his bottom lip out and turned to Phantom Striker. The latter met his gaze, and then sighed at his puppy eyes. A bag of forty gold coins materialized in a spark of electricity above his hand.

"I am the son of man and lightning, and I want some cream of ice." Phantom Striker's voice boomed.

"What flavor do you want?"

The stormbringer peeked into the box. Inside was a lot of popsicles in different colors, and square plastic containers. It looked like it contained more than it should physically have.

"Erm…"

The Bard began to enumerate all his flavors. "I have cookies and cream, vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, purple yam, coconut, Double Dutch, sweet milk, French caramel, mango, orange, banana, banana split, coffee, almonds, cashew, cheese-"

" _Cheese._ " Striker interrupted. The bag of gold pieces turned into a sack of gems. "Take five thousand gold. Give me all of the cheese creams of ice."

"Dude, there are only ten cheese pops in there. I only need-"

"Give me all of your creams of ice for five thousand gold."

/*Hat Shop, again*/

"Oh man, this tastes so nice, and Striker bought everything!" Reize happily sucked on another orange ice popsicle and hugged the stormbringer, who was silently eating his cheese-flavored ice cream. "Thank you!"

"You are most welcome." Phantom Striker ruffled the boy's hair.

"Ah, this banana ice cream tastes nice." Baz devoured the banana ice cream's container's contents with a big smile. "Thank you for buying all of this."

"Just how rich are you, Striker?" Mister Hat dug out a small chocolate popsicle. "Oh, this one is brown."

"There are some things in this world that mortals should not know." Phantom Striker muttered.

"Alright, then." The mad hatter unwrapped the film around the chocolate popsicle. "So, what say you if we duel for the ownership of your _spiky hat-_ "

The chocolate popsicle slid out of the hat man's grip and somehow flew up. Both Reize and Baz screamed, their eyes following the popsicle.

The choclate popsicle got impaled into one of the lower spikes on Phantom Striker's helmet.

Three of the Traveller's squinted at the chocolate ice pop. Mister Hat was paralyzed.

"Your hat… is tainted with chocolate." The hat man muttered. "Can I still eat that?"

Phantom Striker sighed. "Please take it out of the spikes."

Mister Hat leaned in close to the spike, thinking that the stormbringer couldn't see him. But Phantom Striker notices everything.

"Please do not lick my beloved helmet."

/*Wilderness*/

"Don't… tell me we're lost." Reize sobbed.

"We are not lost at all, little warrior." Phantom Striker lied. "We are going the correct way to Pridemoor."

"We came from the Flying Machine. We had a view of the castle. Where are we?"

"We are nearing the keep."

"But I've already seen that log with mushrooms for the sixth time!" Baz pointed at the said log. Red and white fungi were growing on it. "And Hat already collapsed in exhaustion!"

"He spent the whole night trying to steal my helmet, Baz." The stormbringer with no sense of direction narrowed his eyes. "He did not get sleep."

"Yeah, right." Baz sneered.

"Well, Striker… I want to confess something to you." Reize sighed. "The feeling of getting lost isn't really unfamiliar for me, you know. I always get lost. And I know when I'm lost."

"You cannot read maps, child."

"Well, yeah, but I think I know where we are. Reize pointed to the view of the eastern ocean, and gave the others a death glare. "Pridemoor. Is. Nowhere. Near. The. Ocean."

"We're lost, Striker." Baz agreed with his best friend. "Admit it."

"Never." Phantom Striker growled.

Storm clouds suddenly gathered over the group. Lightning struck the ground, the trees, and the log of mushrooms. The two youngest knights jumped and ran to the nearest safe zone, which was the area immediately surrounding Phantom Striker.

"I'm sorry I insulted you! Please accept my hug as an apology!" Reize tugged on his teammate's cape.

"That is not me, Reize-"

Baz cowered under the cape, dropping Mister Hat's unconscious body to the ground. "Striker, make it stop, we didn't want to-"

Lightning struck the group, and after being hit, they found themselves outside Pridemoor Keep's battlements and ramparts.

Mister Hat was in Phantom Striker's arms, half-conscious. Baz was still hugging his teammate's legs and feet. Reize's legs were wrapped around the stormbringer's waist and his arms around the shoulders.

"Striker, I think I just heard a woman's voice telling us not to let you lead the way again. Because you get lost on your nature walks and you get into fights." Reize spoke rapidly.

"That was my mother… she also scolded me for getting lost again. Ah… we did get lost. I admit it. I apologize to everyone. Ah… she is going to ground me again..."

"What's your mom's name? She seems... nice."

"Orage."

"And what's yours?"

The stormbringer looked at Reize with the most confused look on his face. "Phantom Striker… you already know that."

/*in a pub*/

Mister Hat leaned in towards Reize.

"You're too young to drink." The elderly hatter said in a low voice.

"Please…" Reize sighed, and pulled on his hair out of habit. "I'm a warrior. A warrior in training!"

"Whatever you wish, boy. I actually want to ask a question." Hat gestured to their spike-helmeted teammate, who was standing at the entrance of the pub. "Was the story about his parents being a lightning bolt and a human man true?"

The young warrior shrugged. "That's what he told me. He told me the other night he had another reason to be here in Pridemoor Valley, other than challenging warriors."

"And…?"

"It's to find his dad. He's really feeling down about it. The only thing he knows about him is that he's a powerful mage. Striker wants to meet his dad." Reize sighed, staring at the glass of lemon water he requested.

"We have to find his father."

"I haven't seen my dad in so many years, Hat. I get how he feels."

He gasped. "I'm so sorry, little boy…"

"Hey, Hat! Do you want to help me find my dad? I remember that he went here to Pridemoor to get something. He hasn't come back home in years."

From inside his coat, the mad hatter whipped out a piece of paper and a pen. "What did your dad say?"

"He wanted to get a pretty jewel." Reize raised his brow at the suddenly serious Mister Hat. "A gem for me."

"And do you know where he went?"

"He said he wanted to go to a tower. Which…" Reize pointed to the general direction of the Tower of Fate. Mister Hat's eyes widened, and he pat the boy's shoulder.

"I hope we can find him. Now, let's hatch a plan to invade that ugly Tower… do you know that horns are very bad fashion choices?"

/**/

"Striker!" Baz approached the brooding stormbringer with a couple of mugs full of frothy beer. Phantom Striker's head cocked to the direction of the other lightning warrior with a miffed glare.

"Yes?"

"Join us inside! I know things aren't always happy and fun for you. Never saw you smile, you know."

"I have nothing to smile about." He scoffed, and crossed his arms.

"Not even your friends?" Baz' voice softened, a little hurt by his teammate's reaction.

Phantom Striker's frown dissipated. He breathed in, guilt washing over him. "I am sorry…"

"Is anything bothering you, Striker? I don't really want to leave you alone, I guess. I'm pretty sure something's in your mind. You haven't spoken for days."

"You noticed I am moody."

"People call me dumb. But I know when my friends are feeling bad."

He sighed, and sat down on the ground. He put his back against the wall.

"You can always tell me when you're comfortable, 'kay? I'm going ba-"

"Is there a worth to my existence, Baz?"

The burly man almost dropped his mugs at the sudden shift of mood. He scanned the stormbringer for any sign of anything. His heart raced in panic. "Yo, Striker… are you okay?"

"I feel that, as an anomaly that never should have existed, as the son of a human and a force of nature, I do not have worth at all."

"No, gods help me… please don't say that."

"I believed that finding pleasure in battle and being unattached to humanity and my place of birth was the best for me. I am not truly human, and I am not truly lightning. I journey to this land to find out who my father is, to give me some sort of respite from my sense of worthlessness." He sighed, and hugged his knees. He sniffled a bit. "I have so many years left to live, before I disappear. Like a storm that has hit the land."

"There is still happiness in life. I hope you find it. I would love to help you find it. For now… you don't have to think too much about it. You deserve a break, Striker."

"I agree… I need to place my feet on the ground, and still cling to hope."

"That's good… but it's really okay to feel sad. Now, let's get in. I hope things would be fun for you." Baz smiled again, this time, he softly beamed at his friend. "Beer. Want to play a drinking game?"

"A… game of drinking? What is that?"

"We play rock-paper-scissors, and the loser has to sip. Who gets hammered first, loses."

"What is the game of scissors, paper, and rock?"

Baz gave him a long tirade about the history of rock-paper-scissors before actually explaining the game. Phantom Striker nodded along, and thought about how paper could be crumpled anyway, how scissors could scratch softer rocks, and how rocks could disintegrate in his fist if he willed it…

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for war.**_

"Heard of Shovel Knight?" Cecille tapped Siegfried's shoulder. She gazed into his hopeless and empty gray eyes, and sighed. "Siegfried."

His hand reached for the wine bottle in the shelf, but he stopped midway. He looked down to the floor. "I shouldn't rely on drowning my sorrows."

"You shouldn't fall there. You shouldn't." Cecille spoke softly, her low and serious tone gone and replaced with gentleness. "You still have a war to fight."

"I know that I risk all I have in this fight. Just… not my sister." Siegfried clutched his chest. "It's like, with her disappearance, I feel that my heart has been ripped away. I… would gladly take her place if I knew."

Cecille gently rubbed his back. "I hope she's still alive…"

"I don't know. Anyway… yes, I heard about Shovel Knight. Mainly through the news of Specter Knight's defeat." Siegfried snickered. "Makes me feel like I have my revenge. I'm going to get my sister back."

"Me, too. I'll get the Lich Yard back and hopefully find your sister." She smiled to him. "Shovel Knight has rekindled the morale of the troops that we still have. And Irma would have jumped at the chance to attack Pridemoor again with King Knight already defeated by shovel… and you know her love for passionate fighting."

Siegfried turned his head away from the direction of the shelf and to Cecille. Cecille chuckled inwardly at the spark of hope in his eyes.

"My sister would love to fight with this."

"Then would you do it for her? In her memory?"

Siegfried finally let a smile tug at his lips. He looked at his comrade. "I'll do it, even if only for my sister."

"Fight for what Irma fought for. Your little sister will be proud of you."

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for worth.**_

"Hand hol- no." Specter Knight pointed his scythe at the demoness hovering before him. "No. I am not a demon like you. I am human. I will never be your puppet any longer, Enchantress!"

"Then you rid yourself of the impurity that is humanity. And tell me, after such a beautiful night with the other incompetent knights of my Order, did you suddenly change your mind? After such a nice time with your drunk _friends_ that are my useless knights? I know of all the plans to defeat me. Do not tell me you abruptly decided to go against me after they started to go up and fight me."

"We are not useless. We have our own kinds of worth, Enchantress. All those years of closely watching them tells me I recruited powerful knights. Powerful enough against you.

"The sorcerer working with Mole Knight surpasses your power. You forced his mind to be his enemy. Mole Knight has discovered your origins, and he seeks to find a way to bring you down. Propeller Knight loves his crew as his family and will stop at nothing to get you to never lay a finger on them. Tinker Knight values his work and inventions, and you made the people look at his helpful machines as evil. Treasure Knight is finding peace with working as a humble servant, and dare not take away his peace. Plague Knight is already one of the most powerful, and his science has so many uses that you continue to suppress. King Knight needs his healthy mind finally granted to him and you continue to nurture the problems he has. You have taken everything away from me, Enchantress! I will never let you take what they do not deserve to lose!"

Specter Knight stood his ground, defiant. His will resurged, and he happily drank in the renewed vigor that had been lost to despair over the years. It was like the past decade or so was a whirlwind of emotions like sorrow and anger, and never true happiness, and it was as if in this moment he finally touched the solid floor. There was something good about having your feet on the ground.

"I am the most powerful here." She growled lowly, the flames on the candles growing.

"Yet I will never stop resisting you." He hissed, the memories of loss threatening to send him flying uncontrollably. He clenched his teeth and still held his weapon up.

"The world will kneel before me. And I shall start with you. I have something in mind."

Violet flames appeared on her palm, and in a swirl of violet energies appeared between the two. A human figure materialized, and after a short while energies disappeared.

Specter Knight's grip on his weapon loosened slightly in his shock. "Irma!"

The former Fifth Knight and Seventh Knight of Pridemoor's rebellion hovered between them, their heads down and their limbs hanging. The demoness laughed.

"She is your childhood friend, I see. What is something were to happen to her? And as for Seven, is he truly that disposable?" She laughed, as two light wands appeared over her palm.

Irma opened her eyes for the first time in weeks, lifting her head. Her gaze met his, and she looked at him in confusion. "Specter Knight… you're… the garlic bread ghost… and… my… you're..."

"Irma... " The Enchantress hovered before Five, pushing the light wand in her hand while chuckling. Her eyes glowed with evil magic, stealing Five's frightened gaze. She entered her soul and fixed her stare at her eyes. "I command you to fight your friend and kill him."

"Enchantress!" The reaper, in a rush of judgment, flew up to the Enchantress to slash at her. The latter stopped him, her magic freezing his body and spirit. He struggled against it, watching helplessly as Irma succumbed to her mind control.

Seven regained consciousness. His eyes cracked open, but he was still oblivious.

"Irma…" He reached out to touch her arm. "Where are we…?"

The sorceress turned to him, and smiled. "Become my knight, Arthur of Pridemoor."

Seven's eyes glowed violet, and his stare was fixed on the demoness' eyes.

"Seven! Do not listen to the Enchantress! None of you listen to her!"

"I command you to be my knights. Kill and replace the one who has dissatisfied me."

"Enchantress! Do not touch my friend! Do not corrupt her soul! Do not harm her comrade! Stop doing this!"

She ignored him. "Forget your lives."

"Irma! Arthur! Do not listen to her! Fight her! Arthur, remember your love for her! Irma, remember why you are fighting in the first place!"

Irma's eyes fell on Specter Knight. "No…"

"Obey my commands, valiant knight. Your cunning can be useful to me."

"My loyalty…"

"Irma! Listen to me!" Specter Knight's voice cracked. "Hold on to your soul!"

"Enchantress… you're right in front of me…" Irma muttered, her eyes glowing violet. "You're right here."

"Right here…" Arthur repeated, his eyes on the demoness. "She's right here, Irma."

"Yes… and I am now your master."

Both of them gripped on their light wands tighter.

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for wages.**_

"I'm going to die sooner or later, Anthony." The old bird person chuckled sadly as he took out the pot of brewed tea out of the fire. "If the yacht gods wish it, I may finally reunite with my late wife."

Treasure Knight looked up from the diamond he was examining. "I hope she is in heaven."

"I hope so, too. Do you also wish someone was in heaven, too?"

"Yes. I wish he's in heaven." He sighed. "I had a puppy when I was around fourteen. He was beaten to death by older people."

The bird person gasped a bit. "I'm sorry."

"You're not the one who killed him. You don't have to say sorry."

He shrugged, and went to his cabinet to pull out two porcelain cups. "Well, you don't have to talk about it if it reminds you of something terrible. Only when you're comfortable, young man. For now, why not have some tea?"

"You're a nice old man. I haven't had people give me tea."

"Tea is one of the few things that I find useful from wandering the earth. Also, this nice old man hasn't also introduced himself to you." He laughed heartily, and patted Treasure Knight's shoulder. "Anthony, my name is Darwin. It's nice to meet you."

"Darwin…"

"Well, I'm going to live up to my name, young man, and be a dear friend to you."

Treasure Knight looked down to the floor, falling silent. _A friend. Really…?_

"I've seen that kind of stare. You're pondering so deeply."

He ignored the old bird, who let out a wistful sigh and turned to fetch something from his quarters. When he returned, he found the younger one still sitting in his spot, frozen in his overthinking mind.

"Anthony. I decided to at least still pay you for your help."

Treasure Knight blinked, and looked up awkwardly. _Shit, have to react more to this name_. He squinted at the small bag of copper coins. "Well, that's not minimum wage."

"Yeah… I know. Business is dying. But I still want to at least thank you. I've given you the statue, too." His smile faltered for a moment. "You can sell it to one of those snobbish antique collectors."

"No, no…" Treasure Knight held his hands up and shook his head. "Didn't mean to say I expected more. I just said it was below minimum."

"Never really said something about wages, young man. I can't really employ you here. This is like a donation. You might need something like money."

His mind went to the Iron Whale, full of riches found and plundered. "I don't need it… but thank you." He took the bag of coins. Around only a hundred pieces of copper coins were inside, but Treasure Knight felt a foreign feeling of warmth radiating from the bag. He peeked inside. Nothing anomalous was inside, all were normal shiny copper coins that were all cool to the touch.

Yet Treasure Knight couldn't shake this odd warm feeling from it.

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for well.**_

" _Mademoiselle_ , here he is." The Flying Machine's lead medic opened the door for Mona. "And here, you can stay."

She nodded, then entered. As soon as the door was shut, Mona dumped her sack on the floor, sighing and fighting back her hurt tears. All that work to earn his trust and affection, all thrown into the sea, never to be recovered from the waves.

 _As if love was the single most important thing to me._ She scoffed and kicked the sack a bit. She breathed in, and refocused her attention to her dying patient. _Forget about Plaguey. You have someone to take care of._

" _Tag_ , Mona." Albrecht said in a weak voice, lacking his usual ferocity and anger. He was pale, and a fleeting smile on his face. He breathed in and out with difficulty. His blue eyes were bloodshot, and she could see the telltale signs of tears on his face and pillow.

"You're so sick… I kinda miss you yelling at everyone." Mona held his clammy hand and noted how cold he was.

"I zhink keeping it a secret from Propeller Knight vas a huge mistake." He sheepishly admitted, and looked at the window where he could see the overcast sky. "Now look at my healzh. I'm veak. Dying. And my- I mean…"

Mona raised a brow at him. "What were you going to say?"

"My captain is furious at me. Doesn't he know I just… really vanted him not to vorry?"

"You know, keeping secrets from loved ones is a good way to ruin relationships." Mona replied bitterly. She frowned for a moment until she noticed Albrecht's wide and frightened gaze. "Are you okay?"

"Vhat you just said…"

"You two are really close, aren't you?"

" _Ja…_ "

"And you kept secrets from him."

"Zhe only secrets vere ze times I fought tooth and nail to secure supplies for zhe crew, and keep it safe. I ordered everyvon to attack all intruders and have no mercy. I almost died once to Treasure Knight, when he zhreatened his safety, and I didn't stop until he vas safe again."

Mona straightened her posture and tried to think of a way to respond. "Well, you did these things for him, yeah?"

He nodded.

"And I do remember you telling Plague Knight," she clenched her teeth as she said his name, "not to dare attack. Which he actually broke. _And_ I apologize for that."

"Vhat did Plague Knight vant? If only I was healzhy enough to defend my captain."

"Essences. A potion to be stronger than the Enchantress."

"Does he vant to overzhrow her?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Propeller Knight told me zhe ozher day zhat he vants to be out of zhe Order, now." He chuckled dryly. "He has been zhinking about it for a long time."

"None of us really wanted to be here, you know. Only that pretender and the ghost. Although… I did hear rumors that the ghost also never wanted to be there, too."

"Vhatever." He scoffed. "All I vant is for him to visit me here. So I can apologize."

Mona thought deeply. _Will Plague Knight apologize, too? That selfish, eccentric, idiotic little bird who just has the most adorable beaked mask… and the cutest laugh..._

"Do you zhink zhat he'll forgive me?"

"He's Propeller Knight. Everyone knows he's a drama king. He'll forgive you." She blurted out, and watched his pale face brighten up almost instantly.

"He'll forgive me…"

"Now, we need to get you on antimony again, and I prepared health potions for you."

"Hey, vould you be as kind as to… help me get to zhe Tower of Fate? So I can talk to him immediately and-"

"Okay, hold that thought. I'm under the impression you're placed in infirmary arrest. I'm not in the position to-"

"Mona… please… I have to get to him."

She sighed. "Oh well. At least I wouldn't be blamed. Blame me, and you blame Plague Knight." Mona muttered under her breath.

"Please…"

She moaned. "Alright. I'll give you a temporary health tonic, and that will work for only forty-five minutes. I'll also give you a dozen teleport potions. As soon as you get to him and do whatever you want, I want you to be back here. And to be sure of that, I'll be in the Tower of Fate thirty minutes after I give everything to you."

"How… do I… use zhe…"

"Gods, just chuck it really hard to your feet and think about where you want to go. It's not difficult." She rolled her eyes. "If everyone just had an idea about _real_ alchemy, then I wouldn't be lecturing you."

"You have all my zhanks, Frau Mona."

"And I better not get along with this mess you're getting yourself into."

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for whisper.**_

 _The forbidden arts are sorcery, necromancy, and alchemy… they can tap into the darkest energies of the world and harm us…_

 _Morally good sorcerers are still vulnerable to the temptations of darkness._

 _Alchemists have to be burned on the stake._

Mona clenched her teeth at the lies being whispered by the folk in the juice bar. It took her a large amount of will not to explode. Or make things was a wonderful art, the science of magic was just as important as any other science… if only they could see.

"Plague Knight… get those essences now…" She muttered under her breath. "We need to free all alchemists…"

"What was that, green-skinned witch?" The drunken men laughed at her when she sighed, both as the bored persona she always used as a mask and as the irritated member of a minority.

"I'm not a witch. I'm just a woman."

"So why are you green?"

"I told you before, I fell into a vat of icky stuff. Whatever. I don't think you'll listen, so why not play my game?" Mona snapped her finger with a devillish grin.

"Let's have fun, witch! Show us what you've got!" They threw her hundreds of gold, and crowded around her. One of them grabbed her chin and shoulder to force her to look at his bloodshot eyes. She grimaced at the strong smell of liquor in his breath.

"Eugh. Get off of me."

"Show me what you have, witch alchemist. Rumors are spreading in the village."

Mona's rage bubbled. _Harassing me in my turf?_ _Stupid, vile men..._

"I'll give you what I've got." She defiantly muttered, clicking her tongue to close their exit. With one snap of a finger, flasks of dangerous and multicolored liquids appeared over their heads. The drunk harassers appeared to sober up in that moment, terrified of her, and intimidated by the flasks.

Mona stood up, a twisted smile on her face. "Let's play a game. If you manage to survive hundreds of flasks of acid, tracers, cascades, and sparklers, all of which are combined with cluster liquids and regular cannon powder, I'll let you free. If you don't survive, then say hello to my client, Specter Knight. Just pray to the gods he doesn't get angry at you for harassing his favorite boredom breaker."

/**/

"Mona? Why… are there lots of ashes here?" Plague Knight looked down at the floor, which covered in the soot of his nitroglycerin and cluster powder. He squinted at the surfaces that were corroded by acid. He looked up at her. Mona only shrugged.

"Don't tell me someone tried to enter the Potionarium."

"No one found out, don't worry."

"So… what happened?"

"Well, they did attack me and started to harass me. So I had no choice but obliterate them." She looked aside to grin in triumph, and when she looked back at the little alchemist, she could see his horrified gaze from under the mask. His empty eyeholes betrayed his wide eyes.

"M-Mona, are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?"

She smiled at him, and pulled the lever. The torque lifts turned up from the floor. "Yeah. Can't you see, Plaguey? I'm all fine."

He clutched his chest and inhaled so deeply. "I'm so worried for you."

"Plaguey. I can handle myself. Stop worrying and get the essences, okay?" She pushed the lever. As they entered the Potionarium, she saw him tremble a tiny bit. When they got in safely, he twiddled his thumbs and hopped to her.

"But… w-will you be fine while I'm gone? Here, have the big boom arcana… and Berserker's Brew..."

"Plaguey… I have a lot of bombs with me. And poisons. Even your old plagues are at my person. I can do fine."

"Did anyone hurt you?"

"Only my feelings, actually. I'm hearing people say alchemy is evil." She crossed her arms and frowned.

Plague Knight sighed. "I know it really grinds your gears, Mona. Do you trust me? That I can save all alchemists and you? That I can be strong enough for you?"

She pat his hooded head, and chuckled. _He always takes my fury away. He's so cute._ "Of course, Plaguey. I trust you."

/*Lich Yard gates*/

Four damned souls moaned and shook the gates of the ruined village, interrupting Specter Knight's beauty sleep. He had been dreaming of waking up from the nightmare that was undeath. The reaper teleported to the gates, scythe in hand. He glared at the now silent souls, more than mildly annoyed at them. He saw his personal assistant with her arms crossed and a frown on her face. He raised a brow at the lack of dumb cheerfulness she usually had.

"You are quite the bumbling breadsticks." He growled at the souls, not expressing his disdain for being awoken. He then turned to his maidservant. "Mitzi, servant, what are their causes of death?"

"Mona literally dissolved them in acid. They attacked her and started to… umm… I don't want to make you… mad…"

He filled in the blanks, and he felt a tranquil fury. He was relieved that his favorite game maker was safe and at the same time, he was livid at the unforgivable attempt to debase her.

In a rush of judgment, Specter Knight phased through the gates and slashed their souls to oblivion.

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for winter.**_

The war outside was raging. Fires razed houses and buildings to the ground and there was so much screaming. Knights and horsemen shouted for the citizens to follow them. The hollow voices of cursed knights with shields and swords were followed by heavy footsteps and enraged war cries, both from rebels and living metal armors. The low thrumming of magic echoed all throughout the village of flames.

The two children cowered and trembled behind their weakening house walls. A little girl's hands were clasped together around the music box the tiny but kind engineer gave her.

In the midst of battle, the tinkling music box played a tiny song. She held the box close to her face and closed her eyes, in an attempt to escape the chaos around her hiding place.

Her older brother clutched her close, wiping away her tears of fright. Despite the fires in nearby houses, the winter wind chilled them. The windows were open, and the brother gazed out, wide-eyes at the sight of the cruel Goldarmor right outside their house. It was turning its head around, and the blaze of fire around it made it look more frightening. The boy trembled in place, eyes on the Goldarmor, whose head was cocked in their direction. The cursed armor brandished its sword and posed to smash the wall of the house.

The boy looked down at her sister, her face still pressed on the music box that was playing. He looked back up at the Goldarmor smashing its metal fist on the wall.

"Little sister… we're going to heaven soon." He stroked her hair and held her tightly.

The Goldarmor burst into the house, the wall between it and the children collapsing into mere pebbles and dust.

The music box continued to play its ethereal song.

"Children of subversives must die." The Goldarmor's hollow voice was more unforgiving and harsh than the winter. It raised its sword over the two children's heads, preparing to kill. As it brought down its blade, there was a sudden bright light, and when they looked back up, the Goldarmor was gone and there was only a knight holding a black wand.

"You two, quick." The blond man looked at them with tired gray eyes. "Get to the horse people. Run as fast as you can."

The big brother pulled her sister up and ran to the knight. "Thank you, Mister Knight."

"Siegfried." He chuckled mirthlessly. "Now get to safety. We're going to save all of you."

"Are you one of the guys from the Society? Will you get him out of the throne?"

The commandeer paused, scanning the boy and his sister. A bit of warmth touched his heart, as well as a momentary stab of pain and regret. "Yes… we'll save you and free Pridemoor. Now go. Go. Go!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for water.**_

Anart could not register much of what was happening around him. Everything burned, drying out everything around him. He could hear nothing but _her_ taunts and cackling and his own screaming. It was as if the world turned from his own private merry-land into a living nightmare-hell.

Ice-cold liquid was splashed on him. A respite from burns but not all pain was taken away. Yet as he felt the tears roll down his cheeks, and the water come into contact with his fingertips, he finally found the power to negate her magic. Muttering a spell under his shaky breath, the dark streams of fire wrapping around him disappearing in sparkling vapors. The wizard opened his eyes, his vision blurring. His tiny fairy and flying unicorn friends crowded around him. His knees gave out, and he collapsed unconscious.

Mole Knight caught him before the wizard could fall to the ground. "Give Anart more water! Quickly!"

Mole Minions and even some moles immediately followed his orders and scrambled to get all the water they could find. The student with him approached the wizard and helped loosen the latter's hood and prevent it from choking him. The two were careful not to touch the badly burnt skin. Anart's eyes opened a bit, his eye color changing rapidly. The colors of emerald, gold, orange, lavender, carmine, black, pink, scarlet, and violet cycled as he looked around his surroundings. He took more pained breaths before his eyes stopped changing color and settled on his natural grayish-blue.

Anart looked up at the ceiling blankly, barely breathing.

The moles and the minions returned with buckets and glasses of water. They watched as tiny droplets of water floated out from their containers and floating to the dying sorcerer. The drops hovered over his wounds and burnt clothes, gently touching his skin.

"Anart. Sorcerer." Mole Knight called out. "You still have some dreams. You still have to help us…"

The drops of water glowed dimly before being absorbed in his skin. Anart began to breathe in deeper, but his body was beginning to lose its physicality, flickering between cohesion and intangibility.

"Anart, look at me."

He didn't respond. Mole Knight looked at his young student, and sighed.

"We have to get him to more water. He's dying."

"H-how did you know?" The young one's eyes started to well up. "He seemed to be nice… but a bit insane…"

"Yeah. I know. He's nuts, and from the first letter he sent me he already seemed like it. But he needs our help. And we need his, but… I'm not sure when he'll come back."

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for wings.**_

Sometimes it just itches, but it's always annoying.

Black Knight stirred awake, his bonfire already extinguished and the sun slowly rising in the sky. A day like an another, yet, deep within him, he felt wrong. Awfully wrong. Standing up slowly and cleaning his small camp, he then washed himself in the nearby river, his weapon still within reach. He thought he could get rid of that feeling by cleaning himself up.

He scrubbed at his skin and back with the hope that it would be washed away...

The wings borne of her dark magic still gave him some stabbing pain. The wings still wish to spread.

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for world.**_

"Hello, Polar Knight." The demoness greeted as she appeared before the Stalwart in a thunderclap. The old knight didn't flinch, and only glared up at the evil spirit possessing _her_ body.

"Good evening." He managed to contain his anger. He glanced down to the ramparts, where he watched Black Knight transform into a monstrous being by the dark powers of his so-called _master._

"My knight. My most stalwart warrior. You have always proven your loyalty to me. I never ordered you to protect me." She hovered around him, her index finger on her chin and a smug smile on her face. "Why is it that you are always watching over me?"

"You do mean the world to me."

"Oho!" She laughed, putting her hand over her mouth. "Then would you like to me my loyal dragon? My current Order is despicable and worthless. Specter Knight is useless. The others are buffoons."

Polar Knight stayed silent.

"Black Knight refuses to join me. All those who fight me will become ashes at a whim."

"I'd rather become ash than be your knight."

She gasped, her eyes wide in genuine surprise. "What? You fool! I was wrong to expect your subservience!"

"You can expect that _you_ mean the world to me." Polar Knight held the handle of his shovel tightly, his eyes on Shield Knight's face and not the Enchantress'.

 _ **.**_

 _ **W is for wobble.**_

Albrecht coughed a little, and he knew he had to hurry and bring his best friend back on the airship. He still couldn't taste blood, and he steeled his resolve. _Just a little distance. There are Hoverhafts everywhere… we'll get noticed,_ he thought to himself.

"Mmm… I want... to sleep…" Propeller Knight slurred. He wobbled in his steps, and could have fallen down if it weren't for Albrecht supporting him. His entire weight rested on the Hoverhaft. Albrecht decided to keep silent and focus on trudging through the hallway. The Frenchman draped his arms on his shoulders and breathed in deeply. "I haven't t-told anyone, but I really… w-want to go... back to _maman…_ " He suddenly sobbed. "I miss her. It's b-been too... long."

"Ve'll go back home. Zhat's vhat you've wanted." He murmured to him. "You'll go home. Zhe past years haff been hard on you."

"Albrecht."

Albrecht's eyes widened. "I had no idea you can still recognize people vhile drunk."

Propeller Knight let out a bitter laugh. "I know your voice… by heart… _patate._ "

"Cheesecake."

"Why are… you out of… mmm…" He closed his eyes again, his world spining around.

"I came here to check on you-"

"I o-ordered you to stay in your room... _Merde…_ "

"You know I can't-"

"EXCUSES AGAIN?!" The captain let go of his hold on him and stood on his own feet. His face was red, furious and intoxicated. His hazel eyes only showed rage and hurt, tears of anguish rapidly forming.

Albrecht could rarely be fazed by anything. This time, he was completely terrified of his friend, his heart racing and his mind producing thoughts that never settled. Propeller Knight gripped the German's shoulders and started to shake him violently.

"Did I deserve this? There was n-never a time I didn't care about my ship, my crew, and you! _Mais bordel de merde! Qu'est-ce que j'ai fait au ciel pour avoir un tel second?! Je voulais juste le bien de tout le monde putain!"_ Propeller Knight screamed at him, and Albrecht was helpless. "All I've w-wanted was bring you _all_ back to s-safety!"

Albrecht coughed, losing his own balance for a moment. He quickly got back on his feet, as Propeller Knight leaned his whole body onto him, sobbing on his shoulder and wrapping his arms loosely around him.

" _J'ai vraiment fait que de la merde...: patate… patate Albrecht…_ I h-hate you..."

"Stop calling me a potato for a moment…" Albrecht's eyes grew wide at the sight of an ominous purple orb floating towards them.

His chest and throat suddenly itched so badly, and it was getting worse as the sphere hovered closer. His body's response was to cough violently. Both men fell to the ground, one complaining about dirt and the other vomiting blood onto the floor. Albrecht struggled to breathe, questions running in his mind. He looked up at the purple thing, and as it floated closer and morphed into a figure of a demoness, he felt his life draining.

He looked at his captain, alarmed at the ribbons of blue magic encasing him in a cocoon.

Propeller Knight opened his eyes, his gaze meeting his friend's, but the Enchantress was changing the way he saw his world. He saw his beloved friend literally fade away in the shadows. He couldn't see that he was actually just on the floor nearby. Dark magic made him blind to reality.

" _Albrecht! Reviens ici espèce d'Allemand coincé! Je veux te garder auprès de moi, toi et ton balai dans le cul!"_ He started to shout, tears falling from the corners of his hazel eyes. He began to sober up in terror.

"Cheesecake…" Albrecht coughed, his mind struggling to fight his sick body. He could understand every word his friend was saying, and so he reached for his halberd and gripped it tightly. " _Ich bin hier! Um für dich zu kämpfen!_ I'm here! Can you hear me saying things to you?"

"No, you aren't! Where are you? Please come back!" He started to cry hysterically. "Albrecht! _Reviens! Pourquoi est-ce que tu m'abandonne?"_

"I'm here! Vhat are you doing to him, you _vitch?!"_ Albrecht yelled, his anger driving him to ignore the agony in his chest and throat. He flew up and straight to the laughing sorceress, lunging at her with the modified spike of his weapon.

The Enchantress simply held her hand up and shot barrages of harmful magic to him. In his sick and delirious state, Albrecht wasn't able to avoid her attack, and he was sent flying and tumbling back. He landed on his side on the cold floor, breaking his gear. The impact hit his head and body hard, and by the time he stopped moving, he could only barely open his eyes and taste blood trickling out of his lips.

He helplessly watched as Propeller Knight was finally encased in blue, screaming in pain.

 _ **Up next: X is for example.**_

 _Translations:_

 _Ce n'est qu'un changement d'apparence! J'ai des attributs féminins et j'en profite! - It's just a change in appearance! I only have the features of a woman and I love them!_

 _Mais bordel de merde! Qu'est-ce que j'ai fait au ciel pour avoir un tel second?! Je voulais juste le bien de tout le monde putain! - What the hell! What the hell did I do to deserve such a second-in-command? I just wanted the good of everyone, dammit!_

 _J'ai vraiment fait que de la merde... - I fucked up everything..._

 _Albrecht! Reviens ici espèce d'Allemand coincé! Je veux te garder auprès de moi, toi et ton balai dans le cul! - Albrecht! Come back here you stuck-up German! I want to keep you with me, you and your broom in your ass!_

 _Ich bin hier! Um für dich zu kämpfen!- I'm here! To fight for you!_

 _Albrecht! Reviens! Pourquoi est-ce que tu m'abandonne? - Come back! Why are you leaving me?_


	24. X is for ex

_Author's note: Sorry for the really long hiatus. I really, really can't bring myself to write at all. Just a few days ago, I was really close to suicide, but I wouldn't go into the nitty-gritty about it. I'm still here._

 _This one's quite short, but I promise that the last two chapters will be satisfying._

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for exterior.**_

"My lovely and talented engineers added something to my helmet!" Propeller Knight giddily said. "Look, _mes amis,_ at the magnificent work they have done!"

"Can we just play cards already?" Plague Knight growled, smashing his cards face down on the table. "I was really looking forward for cards day. I want to play cards against the Order of No Quarter, too-"

"But, look! My engineers are the best in the world, so you better praise them!" The Frenchman stood up and reached for his Heli-Helmet's controller. The blades of the propeller spun around and he was lifted up in midair quickly. He flew around, laughing his irritating _honhonhon_ laugh, and the Order of No Quarter gazed at the trail of glitter it left behind.

"You stupid Frenchman, the glitter's going to end up on the food! _THE FOOD I COOKED!_ "

"The glitter dispensers dispense edible glitter, _mon ami._ My baker makes them." He waltzed around in midair and clasped his hands together, his voice dreamy and happy. "Aren't their works so beautiful?! Praise my crew! _Togezher, my crew and I will make zhe best team in zhe_ _monde_!"

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for extra salty.**_

"I fold…" Specter Knight begrudgingly said, and instantly the usurper of Pridemoor's throne stood up. His chair toppled backwards, but the faux king paid no heed to it. He pumped his fists in the air in a not-so-regal way, and upon realizing that fact, he spun around as elegantly as he could, hands still up in the air.

"I win! And you tell me I'm dumb!"

"That is just luck, and nothing else, you dimwit." The apparition pouted, his awesome pride hurting and wanting to pierce the golden king's pride.

" _Oh no, no no no._ You're mostly mistaken, my red-hooded dead biggest loser. I've been battling people in card games for all my life! Now is my time to shine! My spotlight! Mine! _Mine!_ "

"I am disappointed that I did not hurt your prid-"

"I'M THE BEST AT CARDS. SO YOU CAN _ALL_ SHUT UP!"

King Knight yammered on, and the Order was half-expecting trumpets to just appear and spray confetti. The knights sighed in unison (in the case of Specter Knight, he shook his head in disapproval), and went on to their own activities.

"Say, who has the cards against us deck?" Mole Knight piped up.

Treasure Knight startled to wiggle his arm out of his armor. "Rts wrrth mrr. But frrst, srrmone hrrlp me grrt my rrm out."

"... this is now the time I prove to you all foolish cretins that _I'm_ the best and-"

"Who got zhird place in Dig zhe Vote, _King Knight?_ You aren't zhe best."

All eyes now gazed at Propeller Knight, whose fists were curled in rage. The Frenchman clenched and slightly bared his teeth at the monarch. He was close to shaking, his body unable to stop the flow of raw fury.

"Oh shit." "Language. We have a young baby boy here." "I am a _reaper,_ an entity all of you should fear-" "Pshaw, everyone knows you played with a kitten earlier today, Dork Knight!" "Okay, I'm betting Propeller will win." "Should we keep them apart now?" "No fighting on the table! I cooked the food!" "Pass the salt." "Popcorn!" "Salt's here, you know. It's unfolding right before us." "I prefer edible salt."

Plague Knight pulled out a swirly straw and then a gourd-shaped flask materialized on his palm. He started to sip on the vital vitriol, intent on watching. A vat of popped corn sat on Specter Knight's lap, and he began scooping bowls of the food and passing them around for everyone else to consume.

"Me, of course." King Knight snickered. "Of course, who won fourth place, _Propeller Knight_? At least I was voted as the third favorite!"

" _Va te faire foutre!"_ Propeller Knight took off, growling and cursing all the way. He scrambled onto the table, much to the foodlovers' horror. " _Je vais te tuer espèce de bâtard!"_

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for expression.**_

The little black kitten jumped up onto the table, tail swishing and green eyes scanning the room in a search. The hall was still empty, aside from the tiny cat child and Specter Knight. It would still be hours before the next knight would come for today's meeting, which may or may not end in a food fight and a shouting contest. Said shouting contest might not entirely be in English, too.

The apparition stared at the cat as blankly as he could, trying not to just pet it right then and there. He tensed, doing the undead equivalent of holding his breath. It swished its tail left to right as if it was demanding to be pet while it made eye contact with him. It meowed, trying to get him to stop being a statue, then walked towards him hesitantly. It then positioned itself on Specter Knight's lap and then extended a paw to tap his chest a few times.

" _Meow? Prr..._ "

After it mewed at him, Specter Knight carefully looked to the left.

He then looked to the right.

Then over his shoulder and behind his back.

He did a mental sweep of the place. Using his _cool and awesome_ black magic of undeath, he found no living or undead beings immediately outside of the mess hall.

 _Good. Then we can do this, my little Cottonball. I love you._

Specter Knight's right hand glowed white with ribbons of black and red, and then two fake cat ears magically appeared on his hood in a bright light. The black kitty watched in awe at the magic happening before it. It looked down at its tiny paw. Sometimes, when it touched the cold human, bright things appear on his head somehow! But when the cold human was around other humans, he didn't even look at the kitty!

As it was examining and licking its paw, it was assaulted by friendly fingers that tickled it under its chin and belly. The kitten purred in happiness as Specter Knight stroked its fur on its head, back, tail, and belly. It flopped over, sticking all four of its paws up and meowing for more affectionate rubbing.

"Coochie coochie pew pew, belly rub for you!" The apparition squealed as awesomely as he could, unable to resist the cute kitten's appeal. He pulled out his hover plume and quickly tied a string on it. When he dangled the feather before its face, the gray feather immediately grabbed the kitten's attention. It stood and then jumped up, attempting to catch the feather between its paws.

"Oh, by yacht gods, Cottonball, you are so _adorable!_ I love you, cutie kitty!" Specter Knight squeed out loud shortly afterwards.

Several minutes of the kitten batting its paws at his hover plume toy and intense cuddling and smooching passed.

"Um… Master Specter?" A young female voice called out. Recognizing the voice, Specter Knight suddenly reverted to a calm and collected state, as if the kitten did not exist. The playful kitten, sensing that something was wrong with its peculiar cold human friend, decided to climb on his sleeve and pull itself up to rest on a skull on his shoulder. Once there, it purred to Specter Knight, content with its giant red kitty friend that somehow didn't have a heartbeat and felt so cold to the touch. Oh well, at least Specter Knight had a soothing voice.

"Master, what were you doing?" Mitzi tried to stifle her giggling at the cat ears sticking out from his hood. _He must have forgotten about them,_ she snickered to herself. She turned into smoke before zooming to a spot behind Specter Knight.

"Nothing in particular, servant." He hissed at the reforming ghost maiden. "Now leave me be. I am enjoying my time alone. You know that I hate being disturbed."

She burst out laughing. "Master Specter, you truly look so cute when you're pretending you're not giving the kitty a belly rub and playing with-!"

It was his turn to be flustered. He glowered at her. "I do not pet kittens. _I am the reaper of souls and the one who passes final judgment-_ "

The kitten meowed cutely in response to his lie and cutting-edge edginess, and then rubbed its face on his hood.

"Aww, she is meowing! Rubbing her head against your hood! She likes you!"

Caving in, he let a hand go up to stroke its head. The kitten purred, and then curled up on top of the skull on his shoulder.

"She purred! She really loves you! You were petting her and rubbing her belly all the time! Don't deny it, I've actually peered in and saw you playing with her with a feather on a string!"

Specter Knight hung his head in shame. "Yes. I do love kittens-"

"I CALLED IT! YOU LOVE KITTIES! WHAT'S HER NAME?"

"Shush! _I do not want anyone else to know! Watch it!_ By the way, servant, her name is Shadow, and most definitely not Cottonball."

She gasped. "SPECTER KNIGHT LO-"

"If you do not keep quiet, you dumb bagel, I will put you with the unemployed ghosts. Your benefits of an eternity of employment, rights to housing, and death insurance will be revoked."

"No! Not my death insurance!"

"Now, do you want to be reincarnated as a dung beetle, servant? Now, shush. And I love dogs, too, but there are no dogs wandering here..."

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for exploit.**_

Before the Wandering Travellers set off to the world and embarked on a grand quest to defeat as much evil beings as they could, Mister Hat and Reize decided to visit the shop of the eccentric man with a love for both hats and hoods… and cloaks and magic. It was not that deep in the woods, but if one knew the group of warriors, they would get lost halfway to this mage's abode.

Unfortunately, they did.

Baz, being the most sane person when it came to navigating areas, led the group. Reize tagged along his burly friend with smiles. As they walked, they shared life stories and gossip.

Mister Hat glanced shyly at Phantom Striker much like a schoolgirl with a crush, and when his eyes fell upon the magnificent helmet of spikes, a lovely aura of blue and yellow appeared around the stormbringer's head. He blushed hotly and tore his gaze away. The latter noticed his odd behavior, and raised a brow.

"Mister Hat. Is there something wrong with me? Please be honest. You have been looking at me in an odd manner."

"N-nothing. Don't mind me!" The hat lover shivered, cursing himself under his breath.

The party abruptly stopped. Baz and Reize stared at the pair, then glanced knowingly at each other. The two brotherly friends smiled stupidly at each other as they watched Mister Hat stutter and fumble at the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Mister Hat, are you alright? Look at me. Oh, no. You are red, much like a ripe tomato from Rome in the southeast, but you are no tomato. You are a human, I presume, as you look much like one. Are you fatigued? Must we stop to rest? Your fragile and older mortal body may not be able to handle having to walk so far. We may take time to set up camp. The powerful sorcerer's hats and cloaks can wait for us."

"No, no, I-I'm fine."

"JUST SPIT IT OUT, HAT." Baz impatiently bellowed.

"Why… must he spit out something? Has he eaten anything that has upset him? Is it… deadly nightshade?" Phantom Striker innocently asked, before gazing back at his hat-loving friend. "I have seen many plants of deadly nightshade in our trek, and he has expressed hunger many times. I… think I can help. I have mild emetic poison to help you vomit out whatev-"

"I… y-you're beautiful! I love you!" Mister Hat screamed, grabbing Phantom Striker's clothes and pulling him closer. "I LOVE YOU! PLEASE BE MY PARTNER! I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE I SET EYES ON YOU!"

"Mother Orage!" The stormbringer yelped in utter surprise, reaching up to the skies. He never knew panic until that moment.

His mother decided to stay up in the heavens to watch over her half-human son while shaking her head and chortling at what was unfolding in a forest in Pridemoor. The goddess of the moon laughed along with her. Basically, the the sky above Pridemoor was filled to the brim with divine spirits and lesser gods all watching their cute nephew.

Gloved hands grabbed two of the spikes on his helmet, and yanked the helm off. Completely flabbergasted, he didn't immediately turn his head into a void. He actually used his cape to conceal his head and hair before it became a black cloud shrouding his true face in obscurity.

Three of the Wandering Travellers stared in shock at Mister Hat kissing and then proposing marriage to the spiky helmet. Reize and Baz shared a glance that only said, "I don't know what the fuck just happened and that's not what we thought would happen". Phantom Striker watched in horror. Apparently the helmet, which was an actual body part of the half-human, was going to be married in a few minutes.

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for experience.**_

"I cannot help but shiver." Phantom Striker squeezed his eyes shut, a few inches away from deciding to curl up into a ball. "Mother, please, help me."

"I think your mom's not in the mood…" Reize said, and awkwardly pat his friend's shoulder. Phantom Striker made a sound _much like_ a sob and a sigh together.

Baz gasped. "His helmet just got engaged, Reize! He needs some emotional support!"

The stormbringer waved it off, and gestured to the general direction of Mister Hat. "It is not so horrible, but… the sensation… of kisses on my helmet..."

"You can feel the helmet." Baz said in a low voice.

"Of course. Did you not know?" He looked up, and for the rope-lasher, four eyes stared at him with curiosity.

"You can feel the helmet?!" Baz repeated, this time with his voice cracking by the last syllable.

"Yes. This… is a new experience… I feel a certain warmth on my cheeks."

"That's called blushing." Reize murmured.

"What does it mean?"

"Ehh… love or embarrassment."

"Well then, I am embarrassed, beyond the scale of human cognition."

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for extend.**_

" _Le chevalier noir!"_ A Hover Meanie screeched. " _Un intrus!"_

Black Knight suddenly found himself surrounded by an entire squad of Hoverhafts, their sharp halberds pointed at him. The Hover Meanie he signed to had just flown away, yelling something in French, and suddenly Propeller Knight's soldiers encircled him.

"What's your business here?" One of the Hoverhafts snarled.

"I wanted to ask if Mona's here, and only that." Black Knight answered, a little intimidated. Even with the visible desecration of his body, even with his wings, they didn't let an ounce of fear slip through their voices and stances. "I need to get to her. Plague Knight needs her."

"Everyone back off. That man isn't going to hurt us." A woman shouted out, and he recognized that voice as Mona's. The Hoverhafts flew backwards, but still held their weapons.

"Mona. Plague Knight-"

"Tell him I don't need him if he doesn't need me." She hissed at him, her voice full of contempt.

"No, listen. I'm the one to blame here. You two are for each other, and it was really my fault for straining it." His words came out quickly afterwards. "Look, I'm sorry, but right now it's going to be really bad if you don't come with me."

"He can handle himself."

"So _why on earth_ were you trying to pay me to get the Enchantress' essence? You didn't want him hurt, didn't you?" He half-yelled at her, and then he gestured to the Tower of Fate. "He's climbing up that Tower to do just that and if you don't come, he'll be seriously hurt!"

The fury in Mona's mind and heart died down. "Plaguey… going up to the Enchantress?"

"Exactly, and you have to stop him. He loves you, and he thinks that potion is the only way for you to love him!"

An image of Plague Knight's tiny body being crushed under a relentless stream of magic from the Enchantress flashed in her mind. She could hear her evil cackling as her beloved Plaguey screeched in the white-hot pain.

"Will explain it to you later, but I have wings, so I can fly you to the Tower of Fate in a matter of minutes, and I can defend you from the evil creeping in there."

She smirked. "It'll be nice having you as backup. I have many things that go _boom_ anyway."

Upon hearing that, one of the Hoverhafts turned to his squad issue his orders. " _Mona va bientôt s'en partir. Va chercher une des infirmières pour la remplacer_." The squad leader faced the two. "He'll be alone, and he'll need someone to take care of him. Please get back here as soon as you could."

"No. He's not there." Mona muttered. "Albrecht's not there."

"What?!"

"He snuck off to the Tower of Fate to find your captain."

" _Oh putain, maintenant on doit les secourir tous les deux._ In that case, you two, please fly to the Tower. We will follow. If Plague Knight is going to fight the Enchantress, we need to recover our fellow crew members and our two captains."

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for xylophone.**_

"I have to leave now." Treasure Knight murmured. He took his sack and flung it over his shoulder. He walked towards the door, not sparing a look. "I have some people to meet tonight. See you." _The Order of No Quarter,_ he didn't say. He didn't have the heart to say he was Treasure Knight. There was just something about the old bird person.

Darwin clucked in surprise, diverting his gaze from the gem he was polishing to look up at the burly man. "Anthony, when you leave, I'd hope you would be less surprising and would say things, well, somewhat in a more friendly way. I know you're cold and distant, though. It's fine. But I still hope."

Treasure Knight stopped in his tracks. _He's right_ , a voice in his heart softly spoke, _there's no real need to be a jerk to someone kind to you._

Darwin took note of his pause, and continued. "There wasn't any need for you to stick around, you know. And I pay you low wages. None of the young men I hired were of any help, until you came along. Can't really trust people who are able-bodied enough to fight for the revolution. Since the Enchantress took over the land, I figured I wouldn't be able to walk outside with her goons trying to steal my most precious treasures. I feel safe with a person around me. The least I can do for you is thank you, Anthony."

 _Anthony_. The knight sighed. "I guess. Darwin, I will leave now."

"There's a revolution in Pridemoor right now. The castle is being stormed, but we're quite far. I'll be alright." The old bird man seemed to not care about the fact his companion never asked about his safety, yet he still uttered it.

"Be safe then."

"I have a small xylophone to play, it's from my travels! It has always given me good luck when I play it. Tonight, when I play a tune on it, I'll pray for your safety, too, wherever you go."

"Thank you. I'll return soon… hopefully." Treasure Knight hurriedly stepped out and carefully closed the door.

He could hear the melancholic, slightly off-key melody of a xylophone as he walked away, to the direction of his Iron Whale to put on his armor and travel to the Tower of Fate.

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for excalibur.**_

The revolutionaries, having torn through the gilded walls of Pridemoor's Keep, destroyed King Knight's corruption. They gladly ripped off every hint of his corruption inside the keep. The paintings, the curtains, the chandeliers, the murder holes-all of his creations were destroyed in their united rage. Bombs were thrown, the soldiers sang their anthems, walls fell, and servants shuffled out to help bring down the statues of the usurper.

Chaos reigned for that fateful night. The keep was blazed in the fires of a skirmish. Walls forcibly made into gold from granite almost melted in the heat. The halls of the king of Pridemoor were being cleansed with fresh pools of blood and burning flame.

From the high viewing point in the Tower of Fate, he could see his favorite shades of orange and yellow marring his favorite place in a very bad way.

As King Knight descended the steps of the Tower, shaking his head to sobriety, he raised his fist angrily. The Goldarmor that confirmed to him that urgent news was upstairs, heavily dented by a now-broken scepter. Years of torment of his past came back to him, being trampled on and ignored, finally taking what was _his_ to begin with, and there would still be people who wish to step on him. His heart pounded in his ribs, and he doubled over against the wall, tears suddenly streaming down his face, eyes wide and staring at the emptiness of the damp stone bricks.

King Knight seethed, wishing that the snapped scepter he held was an Excalibur. The sword in the stone, the one only the true king can pull and lift. The Excalibur of legend granted power to anyone who can take it, and upon the king's death, it would be returned to the Lady of the Lake.

He desperately willed for it to become one.

"Become the Excalibur of eons past…" His voice cracked, shaking as he commanded. He wished for an unknown magic in the world to do it, a benevolent spirit to take pity on his farce of a life. "Give me the power I seek from you!"

Alas, nothing happened.

His anger boiled over, and he let out a defeated scream.

If only that divine sword truly existed, but he already turned himself into a servant of an evil demoness from hell.

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for xyst.**_

 _The slave boy put down the bucket by the well, breathing heavily. He bent and rested his hands on his knees, letting his head hang down. The xyst was a quiet place. A maze of trees and bushes was around the poor abused boy. He heard no rustling of grass or leaves, and so he slowly sat down, resting his back against the stone well._

 _He sighed in relief. The feeling of the cold stone pressing against his tired back felt so relieving, as if the pain and fatigue left his body through his skin and to the unfeeling slabs of rock. When he opened his golden eyes, the soughing of wind greeted him, and cooled his flushed face. He breathed in deliciously fresh air. He had always noticed this about trees. Air moving around their mighty forms was always rejuvenating in a sort of way._

 _The xyst was part of a grove, and he closed his eyes again._ Never mind them, _he told himself_ , I'm peaceful here and I'm better than them all anyway. One day I'll get the peace I need.

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for excavators.**_

For the sorcerer, the world seemed to be distant, yet somehow… clear. It was devoid of bad fog for the first time in more than a decade.

It was like something out of a sweet dream. The sun rising out of its slumber under the sea, painting the sea stark oranges, light violets, and night's blues. The breeze of the dawn blowing on his face and cloak. The sand was beginning to cool down from under his feet. In as far as his astral eye could see, he could see a flying airship full of fineries cruised in the skies towards the north. A small smile was on his face, uncorrupted by loneliness. The seashore was a good home of a water mage like Anart.

 _Just like how it was before_ she _trapped me,_ Anart thought, and then his lips curled into a smile. _It looks awfully normal, somehow._ _I wonder where my forest fairy friends are? I've never seen them until some time after then. But I miss my old friends. I miss the spirit of all water, Undine, I miss the mermaids, I miss the Crab Lord… damn, his minions are tasty… wonder if I can still cook his son, though… holy shit why did I want to eat the Crab Prince?!_

Anart felt water flow and swirl languidly around his body. It was cold, but not too cold. Gentle chills soothed the ache all over his body. His arms felt numb. While drifting in and out of lucidity, he willed his limbs to wiggle a bit just to check if they were there.

" _I think he's waking up."_

" _I thought he wasn't gonna wake up. I saw bone there… I thought he really was gonna die..."_

" _He's waking up…"_

"Who's that…?" His vision blurred again, and the color of overcast skies clouded his sight. There were more hushed whispers, and he could only make out the phrase, 'he's still alive'.

Wind caressed his face and singed hair. He breathed in and out, still noting the cool water from his neck downwards. His natural silver-gray eyes cracked open, and in his spotty vision, he saw the unclear haze of trees and water.

 _Water?_

He blinked, and then realized he was sitting in a chair inside a large tub of water. He breathed in deeply, and the water immediately around him slightly glowed. The burns on his body caused by the unholy flame that attacked him began to glow white, and heal. The minions and students watched with slight morbid fascination at how the flesh that had been scorched almost down to the bone started to regenerate. Flesh and skin slowly reappeared, water replacing the parts lost to fire. And with the process of healing, Anart was finally able to open his eyes wide. And with his return, the slight shakiness and the odd multicolored lights floating all around returned to his vision. He sighed. _I feel insane again. I was enjoying my time being sane. Oh well._

"What happened?" Anart asked just before the memory of the firestorm surrounding him came back. "Oh. Well, I fixed _that_ already, haha!"

"Sorcerer, you just woke up from being fatally burned and you're laughing." Mole Knight sighed, partly out of of relief and partly out of puzzlement. "I think this means you're okay, though. Thank the yacht gods..."

Anart grinned, inwardly grimacing at the intense pain. "Well, I'm clearly the best magic user in these parts. I'm alive! Haha! Eat my living toasted asshole, you demon snake!" He cackled, but it didn't last. He started hacking out his lungs, coughing out globules of blood and flesh mixed together. All of them stared in shock at the red blood mixing with the water.

"You need to heal. Tonight's the mourning dinner in the Tower of Fate, so I'll be gone. Tinker Knight's also-"

"What? A dinner? Why am I not invited?!"

"Well, in your terms, Anart, the entire Order of No Quarter lost to one knight. I would love to take notes how he digs better than _I_ do!" Mole Knight shrugged, smiling under his helmet. "I also know Tinker Knight is plotting to shoot missiles at the Enchantress. I told him I wanted to help him do just that." He faced his excavation team with a wistful grin. "Can't let myself see you all in danger again, so I'll fight now."

Anart couldn't find the words to say. His expression darkened, the scowl on his face contrasting his usual happy demeanor. He jabbed a finger on Mole Knight's chestplate. "You're going to die. That's the Enchantress. I almost died to her. You're not even a magic user."

A student, the shortest one out of the rescued bunch, walked up to the anthropologist-knight, and hugged his clawed hands. "I don't want you dead..."

"I might be." He ruffled the teen's hair. "You all. Take care of yourselves, oka-"

"No, no." He lifted his hand up to his mouth to wipe away the blood. "Damn it, you idiot. You realize I'm here? You're _insulting_ a fine gentleman for not recognizing his skills."

"Anart, you need to heal. I can do this on my own. Your power will be-"

"Piss in a glass and cross my heart. I'll do my best. On second thought, no need to piss in a glass, there's plenty of water here." He heaved, pulling himself upright and on his feet. The water still healing his burnt flesh still clung to him.

The excavators all watched as Anart's eyes glowed green, auras of green and yellow appearing around his entire body.

"I call upon you, magical power that is always at my side. Bring the fat man in fiery red armor to the lair of the demoness and may he and his allies never be struck with her lethal spells!"

Mole Knight didn't use his time to slap a palm to his head at Anart calling him fat. Instead he hurried to shield his eyes from the bright white light emanating from the sorcerer.

And Mole Knight was gone in seconds, teleported to the Tower of Fate. He fell over, and watched as tiny specks of yellow, green, blue, and red floated languidly around him, before zooming to many directions at once. He sat on the ground for a while, eyes wide.

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for extinction.**_

"He's gone." The shortest student brought his hand up to his wet eyes. "I don't want Mole Knight to die. I hope he doesn't die."

"Me, too." "He's like our big brother." "He took care of us while underground."

"Hey! Don't be afraid, I'm here! No one's going to die tonight! I swear it!" Anart yelled while coughing out more blood. Red liquid trickled down from the sides of his mouth, and his knees almost gave out under his weight. Drops of water floated to him and entered his body through his newly-healed flesh, desperately trying to heal his rapidly deteriorating lungs. He laughed bitterly, eyes flashing back to his natural silver-gray once more. Yet he resisted doubling over. He raised his hands to the sky, facing north. He yelled out his last spell, and this time, there were no no bright lights, no magical streams, nothing. Only his hammy proclamations served as his theatric.

"One of my most powerful mystic magical artes, trap the demons in the Tower! I call upon the inevitable _extinction of demons in this land!"_

Nothing happened for the next few seconds. Anart sighed.

"Well, if I die tonight, then so be it." He sighed, and turned north to gaze at the Tower. "I really hate looking at you, so I hope that the fog and black clouds don't destroy the scenery anymore, when I'm dead. Hahaha! Good night, folks! _And fuck you, Enchantress! My last spell for tonight is called 'go fuck yourself'!"_

Steam suddenly formed, dissipating into the air as thick smoke. After a short while, the crowd found that the sorcerer had disappeared. Tattered fancy clothes and the remnants of a hooded cloak floated in the water, now tainted red.

The team of anthropologists found themselves alone, and they retreated to their digging site to pray for the safety of all.

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for exhaustion.**_

He felt the cold floor on his cheek. His entire body felt so sore. His arms were twisted behind his back and bound by rope. His legs felt cold and bare, and he could feel the tight rope on his ankles.

Propeller Knight tried to open his eyes against the blindfold. His thoughts went back to his best friend, and then suddenly panicked. He writhed on the floor. The last he remembered of Albrecht was that he was somehow in the Tower of Fate when he gave orders not to let him out of his room-

"Oh, he's avake. Get his blindfold and gag off. I vant to see his pazhetic eyes and hear his stupid voice vhile he pleads."

Propeller Knight's heart was crushed. Albrecht's voice was seething with poison and pure rage. _Pathetic…? Did… he call my eyes pathetic… and my voice…? What's happening… he always told me I look nice and I have a light voice._

Two hands ripped the cloth covering his mouth and eyes. Someone grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and yanked him up for him to kneel before… Albrecht.

The German's arms were crossed. His furious gaze was different. When Propeller Knight looked at his blue eyes, all he could see was the blue fire of passionate hatred and not the usual vigilant glare. Looking around, the bound knight saw several of his Hoverhafts sneering at him. He could name all of them. He could sense from their souls the contempt they felt for him. It all broke his heart.

"What's happening? Why are you angry at me? I… you were in the Tower of Fate with me, Al-"

His crew laughed at him, the captain. Even his second-in-command cackled at him cruelly. Propeller Knight looked around, and called them all by their names. "Laurent… Marcus… Pierre… Henri…. Philippe… why are you all laughing at me? Answer me now! I'm your captain!"

"You're not the captain anymore." Pierre laughed even more, clutching his stomach. "Look at you. You're just so pitiful."

"Vhat an idiot…" Albrecht stepped forward, and delivered a strong backhanded slap on the bound Frenchman's face. " _I_ am captain now. _I_ led the mutiny. _I've_ conquered the Valley now. The Enchantress is gone. _I am the lord of this land._ "

Hazel eyes started to flood with tears. Albrecht's icy glare pierced into his soul, injecting burning poison into his heart. "No… you're… only possessed… Albrecht, you'll never do this. You're a morally good person! I don't even remember a mutiny! I remember getting drunk in the Tower of Fate!"

"I did it. Doesn't matter vhat _you_ remember. I remember zhat."

"No… why? Why would you? I thought that all you wanted was my happiness." His tears finally fell. He tried to plead to his _former_ crew with his tears and his voice.

A voice similar to Albrecht's softly spoke to him.

 _I do. Please hear me._

Albrecht scoffed, and then lifted his former superior upwards by the front of his now-torn and dirty jacket. He forced the ex-captain face-to-face with him, and spoke his next words with all the disgust in the world. "Vhen ve all told you ve vanted to go home, you decided to stay. _Stay_ , because you hate your family. Ve don't hate our families. We miss home. We miss _zhe freedom of zhe wind._ It was somezhing you told us vas vhat ve deserved. Freedom. Zhen you keep us in zhat hell of an Order!"

"N-no… I didn't want you to… this isn't real! This is just an illusion, isn't it?"

"Hypocrite. No more. I don't want to listen to you anymore." Albrecht gestured for everyone to file out of the cell. Once everyone was out, he picked the bound man up, looked into his eyes for one fleeting moment, threw him to the floor, and then fished out a dirty rag from his pocket to tie around the other man's mouth. Propeller Knight shook his head violently, weeping and begging. He protested as loud as he could, kicked at his friend's ankles, and thrashed. The thought of it all being just a nightmare manifested in his intense fear of mutiny was muted by the stinging slaps and kicks his body endured.

A hard punch to the temple stunned the captive. He fell to the floor with a thud, and then he was suddenly yanked upright. He was forced to look up at the dead eyes of his "friend".

Albrecht's eyes were devoid of expression, almost as if he was exhausted of the former captain. Once tied, he turned to leave, but looked at the sobbing knight one last time. "Ve von't open zhis door anymore. There will be food delivered to you once a day through zhat hole. Zhis vill be your coffin. Goodbye, and see you in hell."

 _No_ , the prisoner tried to scream out, but the gag stopped his words from coming out.

Albrecht sighed. "It's such a pity. I loved you…"

The door closed, leaving Propeller Knight inside the dark room.

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for xanthic.**_

"You are finally dying of my poison. You are going to die in a few minutes." The Enchantress' voice echoed inside his mind.

"I have to…" Albrecht looked up at his superior. Propeller Knight was still encased in a levitating cocoon of sparkling turquoise magic. He could clearly see the figure of the airship captain curled up inside and shuddering, and could clearly hear the frightened and broken-hearted whimpering. Albrecht knew. Propeller Knight had a slightly different way of crying when feeling happy, sad, or frightened. He could tell his emotions, and whether they were real or not.

He trudged towards the hovering shell, his knees and back screaming in torment. Never did a few steps seem so far for the Hoverhaft. Every tiny twitch was like pulling a carriage of forty fat men, and every time his soles touched the floor it seemed like stone had turned into quicksand. Still, he willed his body to move. He clawed his way to him, ignoring the sickly yellow on his body?

"Albrecht… you'll never do this…" Propeller Knight abruptly wailed.

Albrecht hissed through his teeth, finally realizing what was happening. "I'm here… it's me. Vhatever zhat vitch makes you see isn't real..."

As he forced himself to get closer, his vision slowly blurred and yellowed.

"I thought that all you wanted was my happiness…" Propeller Knight continued to cry, and he started to thrash in his confines. Sadly, the darkness swirling around him was too much.

"I do. Please hear me." The agony was starting to overwhelm him. He tilted his head up to see only dark yellows and blues whirling around in place of the turquoise haze that surrounded his dear friend. He felt the hard stone hit him.

 _I'm sorry, my Käsekuchen… I can't save you. Maybe we'll see each other again soon. I'm dying, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I love you._

And then, without warning, lavender and purple saturated his vision, before everything faded.

The Enchantress cackled, shattering the pitch black. "You love him? So pitiful. He loves you too."

Albrecht couldn't answer. He could only groan out, and will himself into defiance. Pain assaulted his nerves, shooting through his legs and arms like blunt sticks being rammed into his flesh and drilling into bones.

"I'll torture you two first before you have your wedding in hell, so you wouldn't be _star-crossed._ "

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for excellence.**_

"The unnatural storm to the north grows stronger." Phantom Striker mumbled to himself, frowning. "It is borne of dark magic, and one of the reasons I came here is to expunge the disease that is the demoness that haunts this land."

"The Tower of Fate creeps me out." Reize fidgeted on his gloves. "Striker, gotta tell you. I got stuck in there once. It hurt so bad. I don't want to go back there ever."

"Ah, Reize." He turned his head to the warrior-in-training, holding his hand out to invite the young man to step closer. "Did you not go there years ago in search of your father?"

"Probably. I mean, I don't remember what happened, just that there was a lot of pain."

He noted the dazed look in Reize's eyes. "Let us not dwell on it. You must sleep with the others. Mister Hat waits for us inside, and Baz is already asleep."

"But didn't the Order of No Quarter and Shovel Knight get in there? There are rumors around, Striker, and Shovel Knight has actually been a good knight all this time! We should help him! Maybe he's alone! Maybe he's fighting the scary red Apparition! He's scary..."

Phantom Striker hissed, his blood boiling at the mention of Specter Knight. "Dishonorable coward… I will send him to hell, the place where his vile self belongs."

"We should help them! I'm scared, I might pee, but we should help people in need!" Reize grabbed his new friend's cape and tugged hard, much to the stormbringer's chagrin. "Come on! Knight's Code!"

"The tenets of the sky are power and honor… I suppose we should help…"

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for extra.**_

"Good thing I have a contingency plan." Tinker Knight murmured to himself, brushing off the dirt on his arms and internally grumbling at the bruises and wounds from the earlier drunken duking.

While striding towards his quarters in the Tower of Fate, he blinked and blinked some more, expecting some kind of headache to grace him with its annoying presence, but when it didn't come, he bolted into a sprint.

 _No time to lose,_ he told himself. _Plague Knight and Mole Knight, my accompli-_

"Woah!"

It was too late. Tinker Knight bumped face-first into red metal with a clang, and bounced backward. He landed gracelessly onto the stone floor, and _that_ was the moment the headache arrived.

"Oh, Tinker, sorry! I was looking for you. Are you alright?"

The engineer growled under his breath half-wishing that it was socially acceptable to say one was hurt by that kind of impact. A migraine was the worst thing to have at any time, let alone _in a middle of a plot to overthrow their boss_.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Help me up." Tinker Knight held his arm up, and Mole Knight carefully grabbed the tiny man's hand between two of his claws. With enough force to grip his friend's hand, he pulled him up. The engineer dusted himself off again, and huffed.

"Plague Knight stole our essences, but I'm still going to stick with our plot to get us out of this hell." The anthropologist spoke up. "We don't exactly have a plan right now."

"Our plan is to have you and me pilot the Destroyer."

"And we'll empty it all on the Enchantress? Is that even a plan? Well, I mean, I hired a sorce-"

"Empty what on the Enchantress?" A third voice interrupted. "A plan?"

Both doctors of their fields turned their heads to see Treasure Knight now standing a few paces away from the two of them, helmet up and exposing his scarred face. His face betrayed no emotion.

"Mole Knight and Tinker Knight, are you planning to overthrow the Enchantress?"

 _ **.**_

 _ **X is for expel.**_

" _Rr…"_ The green Liquid Samurai hunched over, its bow losing cohesion and disappearing in its body. It held its throbbing head, touching the gem, while screaming in pain. It fell, becoming an inert blob to shield itself from pain, but it still shrieked. The gem on its forehead glowed, and then suddenly shook wildly in place.

" _Midori!"_

Several other samurai approached their comrade, alarmed by its sudden pain. One of the blue shifters picked up its friend, petting the blob and holding it close to its chest and swaying a little bit to try mitigating its agony. Ao cooed and shushed its whimpering friend.

No one expected it when another one, a swordsman, began to screech and hold its face and neck. The jewel on his forehead also glowed and trembled, a dark thrumming emanating from it.

" _Aka!"_

Suddenly, every samurai around it fell to their knees, hands clutching the purple gems stuck on their head. Moans of pain filled the hall. The Tower rumbled. Bricks began to fall down, the glass of the windows shattered. The poor blue Ao samurai gathered their screaming friends and began to pull them towards the now-open windows where they can safely fall to the ground.

 _ **Up next: Y is for yesterday.**_

 _Va te faire foutre! Je vais te tuer espèce de bâtard! - Kiss my arse! I'll kill you, you bastard!_

 _Mona va bientôt s'en partir. Va chercher une des infirmières pour la remplacer_. - Mona is going to leave. Go get one of the nurses to replace her.

 _Oh putain, maintenant on doit les secourir tous les deux. -_ Oh fuck, now we have to rescue them both.


End file.
